


Missing Scenes

by words_are_wind



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: And I'm bored, Angst, Break Up, Canon Compliant, Dialogue Heavy, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Literati, Relationship Fix-It, So here we are, Sort Of, as always, ish, look; i love them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 25,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27891580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_are_wind/pseuds/words_are_wind
Summary: Missing, extended, or dreamed up scenes of Rory & Jess. S2 and on~ (all their greatest hits from Bracebridge Dinner, Lost and Found, Goodnight Gracie, etc.)Brief drabbles, not in any particular order, multi-chaptered.
Relationships: Rory Gilmore/Jess Mariano
Comments: 30
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rory plans to visit Christopher.

Jess slips from the diner and props the to-go cup atop Rory’s shoulders. “Here.”

She startles with a small _eep!_ and turns abruptly. “Oh, thanks,” she says, wrapping her hands around the coffee sleeve and hugging the warm beverage to her chest.

After a moment, Jess drops to sit beside her on the steps. “What’s eating you?”

“Nothing.”

“Right.”

Rory’s lips pull into a wobbly smile. “I think I’m going to Boston.”

Jess’ eyebrow quirks in confusion. “What for?”

Setting her coffee aside, Rory busies herself with the frayed sleeve of her sweater. “To see my dad.”

Jess takes in her troubled expression—the furrowed brows, the slightly downturned mouth. “Well,” he drawls, leaning back and resting his palms against the cold asphalt, “you look over the moon about it.”

She shrugs, peering back at him and smiling bleakly. “It was nice of him to offer. It’s just…”

He nudges her shoulder lightly. “What?”

“He’s never done it before. But now he’s got a girlfriend and a new place and a steady job and I don’t know, I can’t help but feel like he’s inviting me to … complete the picture or something.”

Jess nods mutely. Wonders how he’d feel if his dad suddenly came back in the picture and wanted to use him like a prop. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“It doesn’t feel completely genuine,” Rory continues, voice hushed like she’s telling a secret. “But maybe I should cut him some slack. He’s my dad and I miss him and he’s making an effort…” she trails off, huffing lightly. “I’m making this more complicated than it needs to be, I guess.”

“That seems to be your general M.O. No use changing it up now,” Jess quips with a wry chuckle.

That pulls a laugh from Rory. She twists in her place, taking in the pretty dusk of Stars Hollow when her gaze falls back on the diner, on her mother chatting away with Luke at the counter. Her expression falls. “My mom’s not happy about it.”

He remains silent. Doesn’t have the brain power to try to understand the intricacies of the older Gilmore’s neuroses.

“Dean, too,” Rory adds, an edge to her voice. She plucks at the hem of her skirt with a jittery hand.

That surprises him. “What does he have to be angry about?” Jess blurts, tone offended. He’s only been in town a few months, only crossed paths with the Jolly Green Giant here and there. And what he’s seen hasn’t impressed him.

Rory avoids Jess’ questioning gaze, shrugging helplessly. “Well, he wanted to spend time together over break, watch movies and hang out. And now…”

Jess snorts. “I think he’ll survive. What, he can’t watch monster truck rallies by himself for two weeks?”

Rory’s smile is a little more generous now, full of mirth. “Shut up,” she says without any real venom. After a moment, she turns to him, gaze loaded. “What would you do?”

He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “You mean if my semi-present father suddenly offered me a cushy guest room in Boston? To hang out with him and his perky girlfriend?” he asks flatly, head cocked in faux concentration.

She pins him with imploring blue eyes. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know anything about your dad,” Jess says simply. And it’s true; he could be projecting for all they know, and that wouldn’t do Rory a bit of good. Jess doesn’t want her to ever be as cynical and jaded as he’s become.

“Yeah, but you know me,” Rory says easily, before her brain catches up with her mouth and she flushes. “I mean—"

“You can’t keep doing this,” he breathes.

Her heart is hammering in her chest. “What?”

Jess’ gaze skitters to the rows of twinkle lights around town. The streets are cast in a pretty glow, the kitschy boutiques looking picturesque in the evening light. And he can’t help but feel unsettled by the view. Stifled. He glances down, gathering his thoughts and taking the easy route. “Putting others before yourself. You do it enough, I think you’ve earned the opportunity to be a little selfish. Go see your dad if you want. Let him take care of you, it’s about time, right?”

Rory’s thundering pulse quiets some. She considers Jess’ words and nods, wondering how he does that. Just looks at her and _gets_ it. “Right,” she murmurs.

“Well, there you go,” he says, gesturing broadly as if it were obvious.

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t say anything you don’t already know.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I’m too scared to say it,” Rory admits, face flushing. “So thank you. You’re a good guy.”

“Stop,” Jess mutters.

Rory nudges his shoulder, laughing. “The _best_ ,” she chirps, batting her eyelashes.

Jess shakes his head, expression longsuffering and totally charmed. “Shut up.”

Twelve days later, Jess is returning to the diner from school when Luke stops him at the base of the apartment stairs. He hands over a plastic bag with **_In Your Ear Records_** emblazoned on the front.

“Rory asked me to pass this along,” is all Luke says before going back to serving customers.

Jess peers inside to find a decent (okay fine, great) selection with a post-it note stuck on top, a written message scrawled out in pretty loops:

_A memento from the Boston music scene. Thanks again. – Rory_

He skates a finger across her neat handwriting and smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rory & Jess are friends.

Rory follows him down the back porch, frustration apparent in her thudding steps. “Look, I went out on a limb for you trying to get my mom to give you the benefit of the doubt, okay? So I don’t think it would hurt you to try to be nice.”

Jess places the bin of work tools on the nearby stool and turns to her, unamused. “Why?”

Her face twists up in confusion. “Why?”

“Yeah, why?” he asks again, slipping off his jacket and tossing it over the railing.

“Because,” Rory blurts. “She’s my mom. And she’s a friend of Luke’s, so—"

“So just because she’s your mom or Luke’s friend doesn’t mean that I automatically have to get along with her. Or anyone else in this stupid town. What’s with the welcoming committee anyway?” Jess asks, patience running thin.

He’s tired. Tired of the curious eyes and the well-meaning uncle. Tired of the haphazard mountain of boxes Liz sent him and the miniscule cot he sleeps on. He’s been unceremoniously dumped in this mental ward of a town, and he’s itching to get out.

“What’s so bad about them?” Rory asks indignantly, blue eyes flashing. “They just want you to feel comfortable. Luke, and my mom, Sookie, Jackson…You could just accept it you know. Instead of worrying about your street cred and pissing off Taylor every chance you get.” Her irritation mounts. “I’m trying to make things easier for you, and you—"

“Hey,” Jess barks, taking a halting step forward. “Did I ask for any of that? I don’t need some Leave it to Beaver family dinner, or for Taylor to like me. And you. Did I ask you to throw me a pity party, rack up yard work gigs so I can get in everyone’s good graces? No. So get off your high horse.” The words don’t feel fair as he says them, but Jess is past caring. Her reasoning is a ghost of her mother’s Dr. Laura sermon his first night here, and it rankles.

Rory’s face crumples in anger and hurt. She breathes roughly through her nose, and just when he expects her to storm off, she reaches over and grabs the garden hose from the bin. Whacks Jess in the chest with it with all her might. He stumbles back in surprise. “Wha—”

“What the hell is your problem?” she hisses, throwing the hose back onto the ground. “Who said I pity you? God, did this whole chip-on-the-shoulder bit work for you in New York? Because I have to say, it’s just annoying!”

(Back in the house, Lorelai inches closer to the side door off the kitchen, trying to get a better listen at Jess and Rory’s muffled and raised voices. She peeks through the curtain and catches them in a tense standoff, the air around them buzzing. Lorelai can’t help but smile; Rory isn’t one for confrontation, but she’s not backing down from Jess.)

“I’m just trying to help, that’s what friends do,” Rory continues, exasperated. “Is that really so hard for you to understand? Do I have to beat you senseless with a garden hose for you to get that?”

Jess tries to process her words, but there’s a mental block, a disconnect. He’s _so_ out of depth here. “We’re friends?” he asks dumbly, hand smoothing over his tender chest.

All the anger and frustration melt from Rory’s shoulders. She peers back at him quizzically. _Oh._ “You’re really bad at this, huh?” A tired chuckle bubbles from her throat.

He looks affronted, a slight flush on his cheeks. “I didn’t know we were friends,” he mutters, gaze going askance like a scolded child.

Rory cocks her head at him. “You stole my book—"

“Borrowed,” he interrupts, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half smirk.

“—You bashed a snowman to death so I’d win those newly minted U.S. quarters. You bid on my basket. We spent an afternoon eating pizza and arguing over Coldplay—”

“They’re _alternative_ , you freak. Melodic, but still.”

She smiles. “We’re friends, whether you like it or not.”

Jess stares at his shoes. Luxuriates in her confident tone. “Well.” He peers up at her, fighting a smile. “Okay. So, we’re friends.”

She nods smugly. “So as friends…” she drawls, gesturing vaguely.

Jess rolls his eyes and busies his hands with the bucket of equipment. “Fine,” he mutters.

Plucking the work gloves from his fingers, Rory tugs on the sleeve of his shirt and waits for him to face her. She raises her eyebrows expectantly. “Fine, what?”

“I’ll be nicer,” he says dramatically. “At least, I’ll try. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” she says with a little grin, reaching up and patting his shoulder with a warm palm.

They stare at each other for a moment before Jess clears his throat. “I should probably get to work.”

Rory blinks, taking a step back and nodding. She feels lightheaded. “Right. Sorry, go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

“Where you going?” he asks. Can’t help himself.

“Used book sale. It’s in the town square.”

Jess tries to hide his jealousy. “Have fun,” he calls out, already feeling uncomfortable at her absence. He really must be crazy.

Rory shakes her head amusedly. She jogs up the porch steps and turns back to him, smiling widely. “I’ll bring you back something, Dodger, don’t worry. Bye!”

A week later, he’s halfway through _Inherit the Wind_ , jotting down notes for Rory in the margins.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A car accident & a decision.

“Fuck,” Jess mutters, blinking rapidly and adjusting to his newly distorted posture. He hears Rory whimper by his side and his blood runs cold. “Rory?”

“Oh my god,” she whispers. Her face is blanched and twisted in pain, as she cradles her wrist to her chest. “Jess. Jess, are you okay?”

Rory’s voice kickstarts his brain. He quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and scrambles closer, carefully avoiding her arm and gingerly lifting her chin with a finger to get a better look at her face. “Where else does it hurt?” he asks urgently.

Rory shakes her head, jostling around her muddled brain. “Just my wrist,” she mutters. “Are _you_ hurt?” she asks louder this time, eyes roving his form, cataloging any potential injuries.

“No. Let’s get you out of here.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m fine,” Jess grits out harshly before taking a breath. “I’m okay,” he breathes softer this time, not wanting to upset her. “Just hold on a sec.” He exits the car, tries to ignore the way the front hood is warped and wrapped around a wrought iron bench, and quickly jogs to her side. His head is killing him and his ribs are achy, but all he can focus on is Rory. Rory hurt. Because of him.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, opening the car door on her side with trembling hands. “We gotta get you to the hospital.”

“It’s not—"

“Rory,” he says. Leaves no room for argument. Jess undoes his jacket and wraps it around her shoulders. Instructs her to keep her wrist level and still so as not to further damage the bone and ligament. He runs a ways down the street to the pay phone and dials the police, reporting the incident and asking for an ambulance and tow truck.

When he returns, Rory is sitting on the curb, hugging her knees to her chest. Tears collect at the corner of her eyes. She peers up at Jess, apologetic, and his chest aches. _What does she have to be sorry for_ , he thinks numbly. This was all him. He sits next to her and wraps a warm arm around her shoulders.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he says quietly, forcing his voice to remain even. Unaffected. “We’ll explain it to Luke and your mom—"

Rory reaches up with her good hand and squeezes his fingers, stilling his words. They sit like that for a moment, dead silent with bodies pressed stubbornly together, waiting for the blare of sirens.

At the hospital, the on-call doctor and nurse set Rory’s wrist, wrapping it in a splint before preparing a cast. She turns to Jess, his body tense, eyes glued on her purpling injury since they arrived in the ER. “You need to go,” she urges quietly.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Jess, please,” she begs, dropping her head. “If my mom finds you here, she really might kill you. And look at all these witnesses, she could never get away with it. They’ll put her away for life,” she quips, relying on bland humor to lighten the mood.

Jess’ face is resolute. He gazes back at Rory and shakes his head, already gearing up for an argument when she haltingly pulls him closer by the pocket of his pants. He puts a hand on her shoulder to steady himself, reaching up and resting his palm against the nape of her neck like an anchor. It feels wrong, he thinks, to delight in touch right now. He hasn’t earned it.

Her eyes are pleading though. “Look, it’s hard enough to see you, talk to you these days. But after tonight…” Rory chews on her lip. “My mother will be in fine form, and I don’t want you to see her like that,” she murmurs. “Let me deal with her, you go find Luke. He’ll be worried too.”

Jess slides his hand from under her jaw to her temple, gaze sorrowful. The idea suddenly hits him, wraps its tentacles around his heart like a vice, and squeezes the pathetic muscle underneath. He can see it all play out, just like Rory says, and he knows what he’ll have to do to keep her safe. Jess finally nods and leans forward, pressing his forehead to her temple for a split second, stealing this moment for himself. The doctor working on Rory’s wrist is ever the professional, keeping his eyes down and his mouth shut.

When Jess leans back, Rory watches him with an inquiring gaze. The words are right on her lips. _It’ll be okay, right? I’ll see you tomorrow, right?_

He musters a little smile and circles her good hand, squeezing once before exiting the hospital. He finds a payphone and calls Luke, ignoring his flurry of rushed questions and giving him the abridged version.

Later, Luke finds him on the bridge, smoking a cigarette between jittery fingers and staring blankly at his reflection in the water.

“I made sure she was okay,” he says, throat tight.

“I know you did.”

Luke drives Jess to the station the next day, at his nephew’s behest. Neither of them says a word as he boards the next bus to Manhattan.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blow up at Doose's.

Rory rounds the corner into the next aisle when she spots him, his eyes glued to a jar of something and mouth twisting up funnily. He turns at her footsteps. “Doing a little shopping?” he asks, eyes roving her face, trying to parse out her expression.

She keeps her eyes forward. Walks right by him. “Yes.”

Jess’ arm shoots out, placing the jar back on the shelf and effectively caging Rory between him and the rows of canned goods.

“Excuse me,” she bites out.

“Why the cold shoulder?”

Rory finally glances up at him, her face impressively blank. “No cold shoulder, I just have perishables here.”

Eyeing her basket, Jess smirks. “Oh yeah, you wanna get home before that beefaroni goes bad,” he quips.

She deftly maneuvers around him, heading into the next aisle. “My mom’s waiting for me at home,” she mutters, tugging a few boxes of mac & cheese into her basket.

Jess follows close behind. “How was Washington?” he asks lightly.

“Fine,” Rory says breezily, matching his tone. She needs to get away from him. Can feel the walls of Doose’s closing in on them, streamlining her focus on Jess. Just Jess. It’s dangerous.

“Do anything interesting?” he asks further.

Rory rolls her eyes, moving past the produce section with Jess hot on her heels, lobbing sarcastic inquiries at her as if he were discussing the weather.

“Tour Pennsylvania Ave? Cross the Potomac? Hey, you catch Dick Cheney crawling out of his crypt on Capitol Hill? They say when there’s a full moon—"

Rory sends him a scathing glare, rounding the corner of the dried fruits aisle and heading towards the storefront. “Do you mind if we postpone this fascinating conversation for another time?”

Jess gives her a onceover, notes the pinch in her brow, the tenseness of her shoulders. “Not feeling very chatty?”

“Hey, I love a good verbal sparring as much as the next person. Certainly _is_ appealing, what with your charming wit and this delightful atmosphere,” she breathes, waving a hand and gesturing to the near empty market. “But I’ve just seen my dad for the first time in months and I’m still processing the emotional flagellation. So,” she finishes blithely, smiling for good measure and lugging her basket towards the check-out lanes. “Catch ya later.”

“Your dad?” Jess murmurs.

Rory feels her throat close up. She’s not sure why she mentioned that. Wishes she could cram the words back in her mouth. “Yeah.”

“Wasn’t he at Sookie’s wedding?”

The reminder leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. “Yes.”

“Huh,” Jess hums, watching her carefully. “You ignore him all summer too?”

And it’s too close, too fresh. Rory dumps her basket on an empty conveyer belt and fixes Jess with her most acerbic glare, the rage crawling up her spine an unfamiliar thing. “You don’t know the first thing about me or my dad, so if I were you, I’d shut up.” And the hurt must be apparent because for a split second, Jess’ eyes go soft. Apologetic.

But then his gaze hardens. Comes back bearing teeth. “Yeah,” he breathes harshly. “I wouldn’t know anything about deadbeat dads.”

Rory swallows thickly. _That’s not fair_ , she thinks. _We’re not there yet, I don’t know your story, you don’t know mine. We can’t just casually throw around this pain_. “I’m sorry,” she offers anyway, tone feather soft.

Jess shrugs, eyes skittering away. “Me too,” he mumbles. “It’s never easy.” He looks back at Rory, expression sort of taken. It’s like he’s seeing her for the first time again, not just blurry, fleeting glimpses around Shane’s form. The reflection is clearer now, the recognition a sharp pang in his chest. He sees her, maybe he always has.

Rory tries to match the intensity of his gaze but feels tired all of a sudden. “What are we even talking about right now, Jess?” she asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. He helps unload her things at the check-out belt, watches her pay.

They step out into the cool summer evening, hardly a soul in sight. Rory turns to Jess, unsure.

But he beats her to the punch, like always. “Her name’s Shane,” he says simply, voice flat.

Rory’s silent rage is a living, breathing thing. She can only muster a small nod, caustic words caught in her throat. And it shocks her, the sudden veracity of her mean-spiritedness. She turns to hide her expression, meaning to run off, but Jess darts forward, wrapping a hand around her elbow and tugging.

“Nothing to say?”

Rory whirls around, eyes flashing dangerously. “What do you want, a parade in your honor? Congrats on the new girlfriend,” she offers saccharinely. “The girl you messed with for the last six months is just thrilled for you two. Really, I can’t contain my excitement.”

“That’s not fair, Rory.”

She wrestles her arms from Jess’ grip. “How did this happen?” she asks brokenly. “At Sookie’s wedding, you—"

He’s quick to cut her off. “Hey! _You_ kissed _me_ , remember?”

“It takes two to tango, mister!”

Jess is already shaking his head. “Let’s recap, shall we? You kiss me,” he repeats. “You tell me not to say anything—very flattering by the way. You run off to Washington, and now you’re all put out because I didn’t just sit around and wait for you like Dean would’ve done?”

Rory grips the handle of her paper bag tightly, knuckles going white. “Stop.”

“I didn’t hear from you all summer, Rory,” Jess adds, a bitter edge to his tone as he dips his head, looking her plain in the face. “How do you think that makes me feel? What, am I some trailer trash you wanted a little fling with? A one-and-done kinda deal?”

“Enough!” she pleads.

But Jess is on a roll. “And the second you’re back,” he continues, “you’re practically skipping arm in arm with _him_. I’ve got Shane’s head plastered to my face, and all I can think about is the two of you strolling through town like some damn Andy Hardy movie. You and Dean seem _pretty_ together to me, so what the hell do you want?”

Rory can’t answer, can’t form the words, can’t see the reality because her vision’s become blurred. She takes a halting breath and suddenly pictures herself in her father’s shoes. Never settled. Never taking the first step. Never knowing what she wants—except that’s not true. She’s known exactly what she wanted since day one but was too chickenshit to go for it.

And she pictures Jess like her mother; brave, taking a chance, expectant, and ultimately hurt, and feels bile creeping up her throat. She hates that it’s become like this—that _she_ brought them to this point. Angry and bitter and jealous. And apart. So much distance between them they might as well exist on different planes, in different realities. She should’ve broken up with Dean after the wedding. She should’ve sent Jess that damn letter. Should’ve, should’ve, should’ve.

Rory blinks tears from her eyes, summons just a tenth of the courage Jess lives with daily. “I’m gonna end it,” she whispers.

“What?” Jess asks sharply.

“With Dean,” she begins, the words tumbling from her mouth and gaining speed and truth with each second. “I can’t anymore. I have to—I’m sorry it took until now.” Rory pours a summer’s—hell, more than half a year’s—worth of missed opportunities and unsaid words into her eyes. The shape of her mouth. Her voice. “I’m sorry,” she says again, itching to touch him but keeping her feet rooted in their place.

Jess’ mouth settles into a grim line, a traitorous wave of hope blooming in his chest. “Don’t do some kneejerk thing just because you see me with Shane,” he warns.

“It’s got nothing to do with her,” Rory argues, forcing her voice to remain even. “I…” She searches for the right words. The most honest ones. “It’s you, I’ve liked you ever since you stepped foot in town,” she says with an amazed chuckle.

But in the next breath, her expression twists into a grimace.

“I can’t pretend anymore, I’m sorry. I know I messed up, I don’t expect you to…” she trails off, unsure. “I thought about you all summer,” she murmurs a little helplessly, eyes swimming with unshed tears again. She wants him to understand. There’s no ‘one-and-done’ with him for her. It could never be like that.

Jess takes in a ragged breath, and Rory reaches over, carefully slipping her hand in his and squeezing. It means everything that he lets her.

“I have to go take care of something,” she says quietly, turning swiftly and leaving Jess standing under the soft glow of the streetlamp outside Doose’s.

She drops the groceries off at home. Lorelai takes one look at her daughter’s dogged expression and swallows any immediate judgment, squeezes her shoulder in silent support, and tells her to be careful.

Rory jogs towards Peach Street then, quickly sneaking into the yard and clamoring up the big oak tree leading to Dean’s bedroom window. Taking a deep breath, she unclasps her leather bracelet, running her thumb over the medallion for the last time, and taps on the glass.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess says goodbye.

“I’m not playing with you Jess. You quit your job, you go back to school.”

“I am _not_ going back to school,” Jess grounds out, voice raised.

“So that’s it.”

“Yeah, that’s it!”

Luke’s face falls in defeat. “Then you gotta go.” He disappears behind the front door, his heavy footsteps banging down the stairs.

Jess is left standing alone in the empty room, his chest heaving in anticipation. He grabs his pack of cigarettes and lighter and runs from the diner without a second thought. 

Rory’s tossing and turning in bed when she hears quiet yet distinct tapping at her bedroom window. She rises quickly and lifts the blinds to find Jess behind the glass, his expression serious and a yellowing bruise at his jaw—courtesy of Dean the night of Kyle’s party. They haven’t spoken since. Rory had tried to work up the nerve before Fran’s memorial service, but she chickened out in the end.

It doesn’t surprise her to find him at her window in the dead of night—she figured Jess would seek her out when he was ready. But Rory is getting tired of the this hot-and-cold act; the novelty of unpredictability wore off soon after they got together.

Pursing her lips, Rory quietly unlatches the lock and slides the window open, hoping her mother doesn’t hear the creak of the old wood frame. They stare at each other a moment, Jess’ gaze falling everywhere except Rory’s eyes. He looks like a spooked animal in the waning moonlight.

“Jess, what—”

“I need to talk to you,” he blurts, the sharp line of his shoulders rising nervously.

“What happened?” Rory murmurs, unsure if she’s referring to yesterday or tonight. It’s obvious he’s on edge though, and she feels the need to get closer. She tries pulling Jess in, lightly tugging on the lapel of his jacket, but he puts his hands over hers, stilling the movement.

“Not here,” he mumbles, eyeing her almost helplessly. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Let’s go for a walk,” he offers.

Rory glances behind her shoulder, chewing on her lip. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, huh…she’s eighteen, maybe it’s long overdue. Under different circumstances, Lorelai would certainly cheer her on. She quickly slips on her shoes and climbs outside to join Jess, making sure to stuff a book in the space between the window and the ledge as a safeguard.

She wordlessly follows him to the bridge, the lanterns casting a soft glow on the water.

Jess drops to sit at the edge, dangling his legs over the water, and Rory mimics his position.

“What’s going on?” she finally asks.

He mumbles something unintelligible and Rory reaches over, tipping his chin up and forcing their gazes to meet.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, eyes apologetic.

Rory drops her hand and glances away. “For what?”

“For being a jerk at the party, for getting into a fight with Dean, for…in the bedroom,” Jess chokes out.

“What the hell is going on, Jess?” she asks, frustrated. “You were so angry at the party, and now…did you get into it with Luke?”

At Jess’ raised eyebrows, Rory goes on to explain. “I saw him at Kyle’s this morning, and he was talking to my mom at Fran’s funeral. I know he’s upset,” she says, shrugging.

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” Jess bites out.

Rory waits, tries to give Jess the space to explain. When he starts to play with a cigarette, twirling it between his fingers, she plucks it from his hold and presses a palm to the side of his face, forcing him to focus.

“Please talk to me.”

“I met my dad tonight,” he blurts, throat closing up.

“You what?”

“He came to the diner. Sat down for some coffee and most of a Bowie song before he left again,” Jess spits. “Luke knew he was here, he _knew,_ and he wasn’t even gonna tell me.” His face is a storm, anger rolling off his tense form in waves.

Rory searches for the words. She doesn’t know much about Jess’ family, but she figured his dad was out of the picture for good. She imagines Jess—eighteen, too grown due to circumstance, and independent to a fault—coming face to face with the man who left him when he was a baby. Her eyes sting.

“Maybe Luke—he worries about you,” Rory offers carefully. “Maybe he wanted to protect you from—”

“He had no right!” Jess yells, smashing his fist against the wood plank of the bridge. “He hates my deadbeat father, fine, no shit. But he does _not_ get to decide if I get to meet Jimmy or not.” He shakes his head. “We fought over that, and then when I told him I wasn’t going to graduate—”

Rory promptly chokes, a rough sound bubbling from her throat. “You—”

Jess glances up in horror, as if remembering she was right there with him. “I missed too much class, I can’t graduate,” he admits. “And I can’t go to prom.” The words feel like failure as they leave his lips.

“How long have you known?”

“Since the day of the party. That’s why I was so…” he trails off, wincing.

Rory rises, hands shaking, expression drawn tight. She knew, she _knew_ something was up. She begged him to tell her, and instead it had all blown up like this. An argument, a fight, a trashed house. And a million unsaid words. She paces back and forth, and Jess watches her carefully. Tries to gauge her reaction.

“Rory.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me?” she asks brokenly. “I could’ve helped you, you didn’t have to handle this all on your own, Jess. Dammit!” She balls her hands into fists, wants to shake some sense into him.

He peers back at Rory, face resigned. He doesn’t even have to say it.

“You’re not going back,” she surmises, voice hollow. Of course not. She knew how Jess felt about school, how he couldn’t stand another second there.

Jess shakes his head, rises and gently takes Rory’s hands. “I can’t,” he mumbles, swallowing past a lump in his throat.

“What are you gonna do?” she asks, but she can already see the determination in his far off gaze.

“I have to go,” Jess breathes. “Luke said as much.”

“He was just upset,” Rory reasons. “You can explain to him—”

But Jess is already shaking his head. “We had a deal when I moved back,” he starts quietly. “And I fucked that six ways to Sunday. And this thing with my dad…I’m not sure I can forgive Luke for that. Not yet.”

Rory feels tears collect at the corner of his eyes. she grips his hands hard. “Where are you gonna go?”

“I don’t know, I just know I can’t stay here.”

And that hurts, the knowledge that not even Rory and this thing they have can keep Jess in Stars Hollow. He was always meant to leave.

“We’re breaking up,” she whispers, tears falling freely down her cheeks.

Jess leans forward and runs the pad of his thumb under her eyes, his own gaze shiny. “I’m sorry,” he says haltingly, voice rough.

“I can help you,” Rory says resolutely, her face nudged up against Jess’ palm.

“No, Rory. I made this mess, I have to fix it.”

“But we’re—” she swallows. “I love you,” she breathes.

Jess feels his chest crack, the muscle beneath seizing at the fact that she said it. That he’s too fucked up to say it back. He brings his forehead to Rory’s, molds his body against hers and memorizes the look and feel of her. For a traitorous second, he wishes he never came here, never got the chance at something good just to mess it up in the end. A year ago, none of this could’ve touched him. Not this town, not the well-meaning uncle, not the girl. He wraps his arms around Rory’s shoulders and drops his head against her collarbone. He can’t even say the words. Breaking up. It sounds juvenile. And stupidly final.

He breathes roughly and tells her he’s sorry again. Breathes it against her ear like a prayer. “You deserve better than some high school dropout,” he mutters through a pained chuckle.

Rory rears back, gazing at him steadily. “I don’t care about that.”

“You should. You’ve got Europe this summer, Yale in the fall. You’re going to do great things, Rory,” he says, a bit of wonder and a lot of pride in his voice, and the ghost of a smile on his face. Because as much as she (mistakenly) believed in him, he believed in her a thousand fold. “You don’t need me—”

Rory presses her lips to his, swallowing the rest of his words. She pours every ounce of love into the touch, running a hand up his back and clutching at his shoulders like he might disappear this second. _This all feels so unfinished_ , she thinks bitterly. _We need more time._

When Jess walks her home later, he kisses her softly at her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “Go be great,” he murmurs, eyes serious.

“You too,” Rory responds solemnly.

And although the words are right on his lips, (“Yeah, fat chance.”) he nods anyway. Doesn’t offer a promise, but holds on to that last vestige of her faith in him. Wonders if it could propel him forward.

Rory hugs him fiercely, hiding her face in the crook of his neck, and placing a last kiss behind his ear. Her eyes fill with tears, and she quickly turns to carefully climb back through her bedroom window.

In the end, neither could say the word ‘goodbye.’

The next day, as Rory sits with her mother at the table, planning out the last dregs of her Chilton schedule and making another to-do list for Yale, she catches Luke nervously fidgeting at the kitchen door window. Their eyes meet, and the diner owner glues himself to the wall, trying to be discreet.

Lorelai looks from Luke to Rory and cocks her head. “Okaaay,” she drawls, “what was _that_ all about?” she asks lightly.

Rory swiftly gathers her things from the table and jerks her head towards the door, eyes hard. “Tell him I already know, Mom.”

“Know what? Rory?” Lorelai watches her retreating form in confusion, stumbling onto the porch to Luke’s hushed whispers.

That night, she doesn’t give her mother the satisfaction by wallowing in plain sight. She lays in bed, earphones plugged in and blasting the last mix Jess made her—a mishmash of Coldplay, Garbage, and some live performances from the Wilson sisters. Rory wraps an arm around herself, fingers ghosting along her ribs as Ann warbles on.

 _I hear the ticking of the clock_ _  
I'm lying here the room's pitch dark  
I wonder where you are tonight_

_//_

_Till now I always got by on my own_   
_I never really cared until I met you_   
_And now it chills me to the bone_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff at the diner.

Jess hands Dean the thousands of bags of takeout with a scowl. “Thank you, don’t come again.”

“Service with a smile, who could resist?” he taunts back. He’s sauntering out of the diner when Rory enters, and she’s too exhausted to put on any airs.

Dean means to catch her in conversation, but she simply offers him a perfunctory smile and breezes by, heading straight for Jess, who’s still doing an incredible Billy Idol impression.

“Ooh, bad face,” Rory says, grimacing. She unceremoniously drops her backpack to the floor and rounds the corner to pull him into a tight hug, uncaring of any prying eyes.

Jess’ expression softens some; it’s rare that she throws herself into careless PDA. “What’s up,” he murmurs into her ear, leaning his chin on her shoulder and wrapping his hands at the small of her back.

She hums. “Bad day. You?”

“Unwelcome customer,” he says with a wry snort.

“Sorry. I want to hear all about it but coffee first please?” Rory asks sweetly.

Jess nods, turning for the pot when she grabs him by the shoulder, gently crowding him against the back counter. “Wait, kiss too,” she softly demands, leaning her face up.

He smiles into it, tilts his head to make it longer and more meaningful, when Luke grumbles from behind. “Hey,” he grunts. “No couple coupling during work hours.”

And Rory must _really_ be having a bad day, because she peeks from around Jess’ shoulder and pins his uncle with a withering glare. “Luke.”

The diner owner stares back, wide-eyed. He knows that look, seen it on Lorelai a time or two on her worst days. “Let me get you some coffee,” he says urgently.

“I got it,” Jess drawls.

“Then have a donut,” Luke blurts. Slides the pastry towards her like some peace offering.

Rory murmurs a quiet thanks, and kisses Jess soundly before taking a seat at the counter.

“So,” Jess starts, topping off her mug with coffee, and leaning into her space. “What’s got you down?”

“Paris is driving me crazy. I thought her heading the Franklin was bad, but this class president gig takes the cake. She hasn’t unclenched since our summer in D.C. and she has me running background on a host of issues that are well above my paygrade. And then at our last meeting, I shot down Francie’s request to start a petition for shorter skirt lengths and she and a buncha Puffs cornered me in the senior girl’s bathroom,” Rory rushes out in a breath.

Jess snorts. “They did what?”

She hangs her head and groans. “It was like a scene from _The Godfather_. She actually tried to blackmail me! We’re seventeen, god. I wanted to scratch her eyeballs out,” she admits, peering up at him guiltily. But if anyone could understand sudden bursts of blinding rage and possible criminal activity, it was Jess.

He raises his eyebrows and fights a smile. “Well?” he asks. “What’s the plan, Rambo?”

Rory smiles then, running a finger across her glazed donut and sucking on the sugar. He watches her, gaze loaded. The energy buzzes between them, and she clears her throat. “Nothing, so far,” she says, shrugging. “I figured even if I wanted to rip her curly read hair from her head, I didn’t, in the end. And that’s personal growth. Which is why I deserve this donut. And another kiss.” She leans forward, pressing her lips to Jess’ and humming.

Jess returns the gesture, then places a shorter, sweeter kiss at the corner of her mouth, glancing sideways to make sure Luke won’t barge in on their moment again. He loves Rory like this, whip smart and devious and open to affection. He could spend all his days wrapped up with her like this.

She leans back then, taking a big bite of her baked good and gesturing to him. “Now, you.”

“Now me, what?” he asks, grabbing a stray dishcloth and wiping down the counter.

“I tell you my horrible thing, you tell me yours.”

He cocks his head in consideration. “The Jolly Green Giant came in before you. Ordered the most convoluted mess of food and sides known to man, then made me repeat it back to him like some broken Jukebox.” Jess shrugs. “I didn’t hit him so, that’s personal growth for me, too.”

“And what’s your prize for that,” Rory asks with a laugh.

Jess’ gaze washes over her meaningfully. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”

Rory rolls her eyes, ignoring the way her cheeks heat up. It’s not fair that he can just do that to her with one look. “Anything else?” she asks.

“School’s same old, same old. No secret societies or fighting the man over hem lengths,” he quips.

“Lucky,” Rory cuts in.

“Taylor is still driving Luke insane, but he’s got a date with Taylor’s lawyer, so that’s some added drama for this rapt audience,” Jess says, pointing a finger to his chest.

Rory’s smile is softer this time, she doesn’t think Luke’s seen anyone since Rachel. “They’re gonna go out?” she asks. “That’s good.”

Jess leans forward then, trying to decipher her expression. “I don’t know, what if Luke’s a bachelor for life?”

She frowns, blue eyes shining. “I say there’s someone for everyone,” she insists.

And Jess can’t help but close the distance and press a kiss to her temple. “You’re a sap,” he says with rare tenderness, completely charmed.

Rory smiles, chuckling lightly. “You love it,” she responds.

The words are caught in his throat then, entirely honest and _too early, much too early_ , a little voice in the back of his head warns. She catches the way his expression shifts, want to ask him about it, but they’re pulled from their moment by Luke’s thundering voice.

“Coffee refills, Jess!”

Jess pulls back, glances at Rory apologetically and grabs for the pot.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Different take on that night at Truncheon (longer, bc this was a pivotal moment and asp screwed us :/)

“You know, you don’t have to read it again,” Jess urges, his voice pulling Rory from her reverie.

She glances up at him, embarrassed at being caught nose deep in _The Subsect_ —at the publishing house’s event, no less. “I know I don’t,” she says with a light chuckle. “But it’s too good.”

He shakes his head, pulling up a stray stool and sitting across from Rory, their knees nearly brushing when he settles down. “God, there’s so much I would change,” he admits.

Rory’s eyes widen. “Blasphemy,” she breathes. Then fixes Jess with a bright gaze. “You know why I love your book so much?”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t remind me of anything. It’s not a rip-off, it’s just you,” Rory gushes.

Jess tries to hide a fierce blush and reaches for humor, knocking his fist against her knee and humming. “High praise Miss Yale Editor.” She laughs again and his gaze skitters across her delicate features, the relaxed line of her body. _She fits here_ , he thinks dazedly. Jess catches sight of the high stack of _Subsect_ sitting at her feet then, and snorts. “Geez, did you buy the entire stock, Rory?” he guffaws.

“I wanted to!” she insists.

Jess shoots her a disbelieving look.

“What,” Rory defends, eyes dancing. “The holidays are coming up, I’m gonna gift this to everyone I know. Plus, I wanted another one for myself.”

“Yeah? Burn your first copy?”

She nudges her leg against his in admonishment. “Shut up.”

He smiles at the movement, and watches as Rory twists in her place, reaching into her bag and pulling out the first copy Jess had given her months ago in Hartford.

Rory hands it to him with a bashful look, a pretty blush working its way across her cheeks.

“Re-gifting already?” Jess quips. He flips open the book, thumbing through the pages and catching Rory’s neat penmanship scrawled in the empty spaces beside the print. His heart thumps wildly in his chest. Jess looks back at Rory, gaze loaded.

“I just, you know—” she begins nervously. “I had some thoughts, wanted to put some notes in the margins for you.” And they’re seventeen again, an eternity ago, standing in the empty town square on Jess’ first night in Stars Hollow, swapping banter and books and seeing each other crystal clear like a bolt of lightning. 

“You don’t write in your books,” Jess mumbles. And it’s true, even the most battered first editions on her shelf were always nearly pristine. He looks down at copy in his hands. There’s a crack along the spine, the pages slightly crumpled and thinner from wear and tear. This book is obviously well-loved. He runs the pad of his thumb over her handwriting, wonders how many times Rory’s read it.

She shrugs, aiming for casual despite the deeply tender moment. “I made an exception for you,” she chirps, prim expression morphing into a soft smile.

Jess swallows roughly. All at once, he knows this is it for him. His great love story begins and ends with Rory. He wills his beating heart to calm some and clears his throat. “You look happier than when I last saw you,” he murmurs.

“I am.”

“So you…fixed everything?” he asks, hands gesturing vaguely.

Rory’s smile cracks at the edges. She thinks of the paper—how she does more delegating and handholding than writing these days. She thinks of her mess of a personal life too, but the recent bolstering of her backbone was a proud moment. “Yeah,” she shrugs. “Everything’s fixed.”

Jess smiles in relief. “Good,” he says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Rory dips her head and smiles, unconsciously moving closer. “Me too.”

They meet in the middle then, breathing in shared space for a moment before Jess presses his lips to hers, tilting his head and opening his mouth for better access. Rory gasps into the kiss, licking into his mouth and moaning lightly. Jess cradles a hand around her arm, and the added pressure suddenly brings her back to focus. In the next breath, Rory jerks back, eyes wide. Jess’ hand drops from her arm to her thigh.

He makes a noise in the back of this throat, choked and questioning. “Uh, what?”

“I’m sorry,” Rory mumbles, standing abruptly and putting some much needed space between them.

Jess rises to his feet, disoriented. “About what?”

“About this,” she starts, pacing back and forth. “I didn’t come here for this, I swear. I just—I don’t know, I got the flyer and I wanted to see you, see your place. And now, this…” Her voice goes wobbly at the end, and Jess slowly reaches for her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he breathes, trying to make sense of Rory’s starts and stops. He suddenly drops his hand, horror shooting up his spine. “You’re still with him,” he says more than asks.

Rory is quick to object, brows knitted in disgust and head shaking. “No! No, I broke up with Logan. He cheated on me, so—"

“He what?” Jess chokes.

“With the entirety of his sister’s bridal party,” she says with a humorless chuckle.

Jess’ face twists up angrily. He really should’ve keyed the guy’s fucking Porsche when he had the chance. “God.”

She shrugs, chewing on her lip. “Yeah. He said we were technically on a break at the time, but…”

“What is this, an episode of _Friends_ ,” he mutters. “What an asshole.”

Rory laughs more genuinely this time. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” Jess offers softly. He can see the way Rory shrugs it off, forcing her tone to remain light and unaffected.

“It’s okay. I don’t think we were ever gonna work out. But it’s, um, very recent, so…” Her voice trails off, expression awkward.

Jess stands straighter. “Of course. Sorry,” he blurts, shaking his head. What is he thinking, trying to jump her bones after one evening together.

Rory fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “I just mean—” She gulps, smiling bleakly at him. “We shouldn’t just jump right back into things. I don’t want you to be some rebound…It’s more important than that—you and me,” she says in a roundabout ramble. She’s not sure if her words make sense, but judging by the shift in Jess’ expression, he’s catching on.

“You and me,” he repeats her words, molding his lips around the phrase like it’s a precious thing. “We’re—”

She watches him helplessly, entirely out of depth and wanting to close the distance between them. “We don’t even know each other as adults,” Rory says carefully.

Jess nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “So let’s get to know each other,” he offers.

Rory smiles. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing. There’s a diner around the corner. Coffee?”

“Always. I could eat too.”

“They have cheese stuffed burgers.”

“That sounds disgusting,” Rory says with an excited grin. “Let’s go.”

The spend the rest of the night huddled in a corner booth, leaning against cracked red leather and getting their fill of classic, greasy American cuisine. Rory wheedles Jess about a sequel to _Subsect_ , and Jess hems and haws, hiding a smile at the giddy look she shoots him. She tells him more about Yale, about her work as editor, and what she plans to do after graduation. It’s easy, comfortable. And Rory sort of regrets her words earlier. It seems no matter how much time has passed, she and Jess are always able to pick up where they left off. They do know each other.

They amble back to Truncheon later that night, bellies full and hearts light.

Jess turns to Rory then. “Where are you staying?”

Her expression slackens before she breathes out an embarrassed laugh. “Oh, I didn’t even—I kinda just got in my car and drove here. I wasn’t planning to—” she trails off, glancing at her watch and considering her options. “I guess I should get back,” Rory mumbles a little morosely. She doesn’t want this night to end.

“What? It’s past midnight.”

“I don’t mind.”

Jess shakes his head. “No, Luke would kill me if I let you drive back this late.”

Rory glances around. “Well. Know any good motels nearby?” she jokes.

“I have a perfectly good couch, Rory,” he responds easily before glancing at her wide eyed. _Was that too much_ , Jess thinks. _Did I overstep_?

But Rory just peers back at him, smiling thankfully. “Okay,” she agrees. “If you don’t mind.”

They’re settling into Jess’ place later. He explained each of the guys had their own space above Truncheon—a studio of sorts, along with a shared great room and kitchen. Rory exits the bathroom and takes it all in, a full bed, a worn leather couch, and stacks of books and records everywhere else. It’s nice, she decides. Feels lived in. Warm.

Jess is busy laying a new sheet and stray blanket over his couch when Matt and Chris stumble back into the apartment, too clumsy and giggly for this late hour. “You missed one helluva night at Cedar Bar Redux!” Matt yells, before his and Chris’ gazes fall on Rory.

She lifts her hand in awkward hello.

They nod dumbly before catching Jess’ eyes, smiling guilelessly and trying to wink.

“Oh you crazy kids,” Chris murmurs, a knowing look on his face.

“You two have a great night, now!” Matt simpers.

Jess rushes forward to block their view, muttering a caustic ‘Bite me,’ and discreetly flipping them the bird before slamming the door in their faces. “Ignore that,” he says, turning back to an amused Rory. “They’ve got, like, three working braincells between them.”

She laughs at the stricken look on Jess’ face and his nervous fumbling. It’s rare to catch him like this, vulnerable and a little bamboozled. He’s softer along the edges like this, and she loves it.

“You got a shirt I can borrow?” she asks, moving the conversation away from his drunken friends’ antics.

Jess nods, pulling something from his dresser and tossing it in her direction.

Rory unfurls the piece of clothing and promptly throws it right back at him. “You did that on purpose,” she accuses.

Laughing, Jess catches the shirt before it thwacks him in the face and sits on his old coffee table, facing Rory and presenting his ratty Metallica t-shirt like some splendid thing. “Beggars can’t be choosers, ma’am.”

Rory grumbles as she snatches the shirt, reaching up and undoing the buttons of her blazer and lifting the edge of her camisole, revealing roves of soft, pale skin. Jess flushes and stands abruptly, facing the opposite wall and waiting. It’s been so long since he’s seen her like that. He hears her slip off her jeans next, shoving her clothes onto a nearby chair and settling against the sofa, pulling a blanket over her legs. “Okay,” she murmurs.

Jess turns back, takes in the sight of her—barefaced, her soft frame filling out his favorite t-shirt—and swallows thickly. “It looks good on you,” he says.

“Thanks,” Rory breathes, twirling a finger at the warped neckline and hiding a blush that goes down to her knees. Does he even know how he’s looking at her right now, she wonders. She takes a breath and peers up at him. “Goodnight, then.”

Jess nods, and it takes every bit of restraint for him to not touch her. To step away, change into sleep clothes, and shut off the lights.

Jess is lying in bed later, wide awake with eyes glued to the ceiling. He keeps glancing over at Rory’s form on the couch, ears straining to hear the steady breath of slumber. But it’s too quiet.. “You asleep yet?”

A beat. “Not yet,” she whispers.

“What are you thinking about?” Jess asks. Can’t help himself.

“I’m thinking about your book.”

“Come on,” he says with an amused groan.

“I mean it,” Rory starts, and Jess can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m thinking you’ve done so well for yourself, Jess. You built this life, you do work you care about, and you sat down and wrote a novel. You created that,” she says, tone caught somewhere between wonder and smugness. “I’m thinking I was right about you.” And it feels safe to say it, to release the pride and sweet sentiment into the shared darkness stretched between them.

Jess feels a lump form in his throat. It’s a foreign thing, to have Rory within arm’s reach praising him so purely. He’ll never get used to it, but he could spend his whole life learning, he decides. The words are right on his tongue then, but it would be unfair to say it like this. Wasn’t fair the first time he uttered them, desperately blurted out before he drove off into the night.

He clears his throat, reaching for something lighthearted when Rory suddenly appears before him, shifting her weight from one bare leg to the other.

Jess sits up, watching her carefully. “Rory, what—”

“Scoot over,” she murmurs, blush apparent even in the darkness.

Wordlessly, Jess slides to the edge of the bed and pulls the covers up, letting Rory climb in and settle next to him. It’s a tight fit, just enough space for two people to lay close with their bodies pressed together. Rory reaches down and blindly slips her hand into his, their fingers automatically interlocking.

They lay like that for a while, silent save for the distant sounds of a passing car outside his window.

After a while, Rory faces him. “What happens tomorrow?”

Jess allows himself a small smile, leans down and presses his forehead to hers. “Whatever we want,” he murmurs. And it’s true. Tomorrow is theirs for the taking. Not quite a clean slate—they’ve too much history for that—but something resembling a new beginning.

Rory leans back, matching his smile with one of her own. “I like the sound of that.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess calls from California.

Rory leans back on her bed, exhausted. She was counting on a free week before Yale started, and now…She sighs, closing her eyes and basking in the blessed silence. The house phone rings then, and she groans, twisting in her spot to fish the stupid thing from behind her pillow. She doesn’t recognize the number but answers anyway. What’s another thing to deal with, she thinks wryly.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

His voice is garbled, a little muted in quality, but it’s like being drenched in cold water, causes Rory to sit up straight, ears straining. “Jess,” she breathes. She hasn’t heard from him since the start of the summer, when he sent her a slightly wrinkled postcard from Venice Beach. She never told her mother or Luke about it. Never found it in her to reply back either.

“Yeah,” he responds, a little embarrassed. Rory can imagine him scratching the back of his neck, eyes skittering away.

“You—” she swallows. “Sorry, that wasn’t a sentence,” Rory mumbles.

“I got the gist of it,” Jess says with a wry chuckle. “So, what’s up?”

Rory glances around her room, tries to get her bearings. “Not much,” she murmurs.

“You’re back from Europe.”

“I am.”

“I thought you might go rogue, traverse the entire continent like some weary traveler.”

Rory leans back against her pillows again, delighting in his voice, in the easy way they’re speaking to each other. “Tempting. But I think I’ve had my fill of smelly hostels and street food.”

Jess smiles on the other end. “You had fun though?”

“It was cool,” she begins, trying to keep the excitement at bay. “Really beautiful landscapes and architecture and hangouts. I had a drink at The Ritz just like Hemingway.”

“Fifty-one dry martinis?”

“Uh, one vodka cranberry, and a glass of ginger ale to soften the blow,” Rory offers, causing Jess to laugh. “Whatever, like I’m gonna ruin my liver for the sake of Ernest? I don’t think so.”

“You’re warming up to him, I can tell.”

“Yeah, he’s alright,” she allows. “How’s California?” Rory asks carefully. She doesn’t know if it’s okay to talk about it, if they should just treat the whole thing like the proverbial elephant in the room.

Jess goes into detail about the west coast scene, skips over the specifics of Jimmy because it still sets him on edge, and talks a bit about Sasha and Lily.

Rory laughs lightly. “So she’s a bookworm.”

“Major bookworm. She hides out in the wardrobe with a stack of books, wearing a little headlight like some old miner.” She can hear the affection in Jess’ voice and it twists something tender in her chest.

“She could be your little protégé,” Rory jokes. “You introduce her to the beats yet?”

Jess breathes a low chuckle on the other end. “No way, she’s too young. Anyways, she’s obsessed with everything Stephen King at the moment. I gotta turn her off from that crap first.”

Laying flat on her bed and ghosting a hand across her ribs, Rory snorts. “Snob.”

“Hey, none of his stuff makes sense. He was whacked out on cocaine when he wrote it anyway,” Jess argues, a little heat and good nature in his tone.

Rory laughs harder. It feels good to talk like this, with no prying eyes or expectations. Just Jess’ gentle voice some three thousand miles away. She misses him.

And it’s like he can sense the shift in atmosphere because he clears his throat and murmurs her name. “You okay?”

“Just tired.”

Jess hums, prompts her to continue.

“I screwed up,” Rory explains. “I thought I had more time before school, and now it turns out I have to move in this weekend. My grandmother shanghaied me for dinner later, so I don’t even get to spend my last night here watching trashy movies with my mom. And earlier, Taylor roped me into his ridiculous soda shoppe opening and I had to wear a crown and carry a scepter,” she rants.

“How King Lear of you,” he quips.

“Don’t make fun,” Rory chides.

“Why’d you say yes to that stuff anyhow?”

“Because. It’s Taylor. Sometimes it’s easier to just give in,” she mutters, brows knitting in annoyance.

“He needs to be examined. I mean it, there’s a bed at Bellevue with his name on it.”

Rory starts giggling, suddenly imagining a crew of orderlies trying to corral Taylor. Jess laughs along with her, and then the line goes quiet. Just their steady breathing. She reaches for something—anything—lighthearted to keep the conversation going, but all she really wants to do is ask him if he’s staying in California for good. Ask him if it was worth it—running away.

Jess clears his throat again, waits a beat, and breathes out a muted ‘Sorry,’ over the line.

Rory clenches her eyes shut. They’ve already done this, had it out on the bridge that night months ago. “You had to go,” she responds quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Have you spoken to Luke since—”

Jess cuts her off, voice hard. “No.”

She sighs. “You’ll have to talk to him eventually.”

He makes a noise of protest in the back of this throat, but Rory continues.

“He messed up,” she concedes. “But he cares about you, he wants you to do well. It’s why he tried so hard when you first got here. Defended you each time. That wasn’t for nothing, Jess.” Rory doesn’t mean to preach, but she needs him to understand. Needs him to accept—however begrudgingly—that he has people in his camp.

After a beat, his voice floats through the line, quiet and resigned. “I know.”

“And you have me, too,” Rory offers, cheeks coloring in the privacy of her room. She wonders if they’ll always be caught in this weird limbo. Not together but never quite apart.

His response is immediate this time, a tender thing. “I know.”

Rory savors the exchange, memorizes the sound of his voice for later. She glances at the clock, she’ll have to get ready for dinner soon. She’s already dreading tonight. Emily will be in fine form—monopolizing the night as a means to get back at Lorelai and level the playing field. She swallows a sigh. Sometimes, Rory wishes she didn’t have to play the longsuffering mediator. Between two grown adults, no less.

“I gotta go,” she says, voice tinged with regret.

“Okay.”

“Will you…I got a new cellphone after graduation,” Rory offers nervously.

His response is softer this time, and they exchange numbers, with Jess warning her he might be on the road later, might call from here and there. It sounds exciting, Rory has to admit. And with too many variables, too many instances where she won’t be able to imagine him or the environment. She’s moving to Yale tomorrow and Jess is on the precipice of something life-changing or life-ending, she suspects. It forms a pit in her stomach.

When the crackle of the silent phone line proves too much for Rory, she clears her throat. Laughs a little and whispers ‘Goodbye.’

“Hey,” Jess interrupts. “Thanks, Rory.”

She doesn’t have the heart to ask him for what. She couldn’t fix this thing between them in the end. She hugs the receiver to her chest for a moment and hangs up.

Rory gets back from dinner at a ridiculous hour. She had fallen asleep in her mother’s old room, woken up to Lorelai and Emily chatting and sharing a laugh over Singin’ in the Rain. Disorienting as it was, the night hadn’t turned out too bad. Rory bid her grandmother goodbye, pulled her mom into the jeep, and drove them home.

She shuffles into her bedroom then, tossing her purse into a far corner and slipping her phone from her cardigan pocket. There’s a blinking notification on the screen, ‘One New Voicemail,’ it reads.

Rory’s heartbeat picks up. She settles into bed and clicks the play button, fighting a grin as Jess’ voice floats over the speaker.

“You’re probably at dinner right now,” he starts, a playful edge to his voice. “Planning your great escape no doubt. I just wanted to wish you good luck tomorrow. Enjoy your courses and keggers and whatever else ivy leaguers do. Don’t let Paris push you around too much,” he adds with a laugh. “And…thanks again.” She can hear him clear his throat, rushing the words out. “You were one of the best things— _the_ best thing that came out of all this. You have to know that. Um, anyways. I’ll talk to you later. Bye, Rory.”

The message ends, and Rory moves it to her saved voicemails. She pictures Jess somewhere out west, his steady figure cutting a striking image against a beautiful sunset. Vivid hues of peach and magenta and startling yellow. The warmth is overwhelming.

 _He’ll be okay_ , she thinks. And they’ll see each other again. This isn’t the end.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let Me Hear Your Balalaikas Ringing Out; more Jess & Rory, less Logan. As it was meant to be.

“What the hell is going on?”

“I told you, he’s—he’s tired. And his family is buggin’ him right now,” Rory rushes to explain.

“No,” Jess says forcefully. “With you! What’s going on with _you_?”

Rory jerks back at his biting tone. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I know you—I know you better than anyone. This isn’t you!”

She stutters. “I don’t know.”

“What are you doing?” Jess asks, his volume rising in exasperation. “Living at your grandparents’ place, being in the D.A.R., no Yale—god, _why_ did you drop out of Yale?”

“It’s complicated,” Rory tries to explain.

“It’s not, it’s not complicated!”

“You don’t know,” Rory says, matching his tone. But she’s losing control of the situation. None of her reasoning is making it out of her mouth, just a garbled mess of starts and stops.

Jess exhales roughly, gesturing to Rory. “This isn’t you,” he urges. “This! You, going out with this _jerk_. With a Porsche? We made fun of guys like this!”

She searches for the words, brows knitting. “You caught him on a bad night,” she starts to defend, but Jess cuts her off.

Brings his hands up in frustration and shakes his head, changing tactics. “This isn’t about him, okay, _screw_ him! What’s going on with _you_? This isn’t you, Rory, what’s going on?” Jess asks desperately, straining his neck forward and looking her plain in the face. There’s urgency in his voice, his eyes. It’s like he’s losing sight of her.

“I don’t know!” Rory yells, gazing back at him. She wraps her coat tighter around her middle, shielding herself. “I don’t know,” she says quieter this time, a stinging behind her eyes.

Jess rubs a hand over his face, exhausted all of a sudden. He takes in Rory’s tense posture, the uncertainty in her eyes, and it hurts. She had always been so excited about school, so surefooted about her dreams. To see her aimless and under the thumb of her grandparents and her asshole boyfriend was too much.

He reaches out and cradles her elbow, squeezing lightly in concern and apology. “Look, maybe—”

Footsteps thud in their direction then, as Logan exits the bar, expression curdling at the sight of Rory and Jess. He stops short, just out of reach—which is smart, Jess thinks, because he’d love nothing more than to drop kick this trust fund yuppie.

“Rory,” Logan starts, “let’s go.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and Rory bristles.

She looks down at her feet, heat creeping up her cheeks in embarrassment and frustration. God, what a night. She was supposed to catch up with Jess, obsess over his book and hear about his life in Philly, and then Logan came blustering in. Jess wrote a book, and Logan mocked him. And Rory just sat there. She feels shame and unfamiliar rage run down her spine. She peers up at Jess, takes in his closed off expression, and finds her backbone.

Turning the other way, Rory shakes her head and forces her tone to remain even. “No, Logan. You can leave. I need to talk to Jess.”

He staggers forward then, his movement messy and blurred from the alcohol. He grabs her forearm and tugs. “Come on, Rory,” Logan croons, sweeter now despite the vice-like grip. His eyes slide to Jess, a bitter smile on his face. “Look, I’m sorry. I get it, you’re a modern day Vonnegut. I’ll even buy a few copies,” he slurs, reaching into his breast pocket with his free hand and pulling out a roll of bills. “What do I owe you, man?”

Jess stares right back and clasps his hands behind to restrain himself. “Fuck off,” he breathes, tone dangerous.

“Hey now,” Logan says genially, pulling Rory to his chest. “That’s no way to treat a potential reader, isn’t that right, Ace?”

“Call a cab, Logan. Go home, you’re drunk,” she mutters, wrenching from his grasp.

He tries to crowd against her again, and Jess steps between them, pushing Logan hard in the chest. The guy’s tipsy enough that he stumbles away, laughing. Jess has half a mind to shove him to the ground when Rory bunches the edge of Jess’ denim jacket in her hand, murmuring a quiet _please_ against the back of his shoulder. She can feel the eyes on them, doesn’t want this to spiral out of control.

Jess stays close, breathing roughly through his nose and nodding imperceptibly. He shifts forward a bit, nearly blocking Rory from Logan’s view.

The man’s face drops again at the sight of them. He takes a halting step backward, expression morphing into boredom, and shrugs. “Have it your way,” he breathes. “Enjoy slumming it with your high school sweetheart, Ace,” Logan adds acerbically.

Rory doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until he’s out of view, and she exhales shakily. Her hands are clenched in fists, fingernails digging crescent shaped scars into her palms.

Jess turns to her with an unreadable expression. There is truly never a dull moment with them, he thinks wryly. They couldn’t just have a normal fucking evening.

“I’m so sorry,” Rory starts, feeling like she might burst into tears.

He shakes his head, sighing lowly, and briefly runs the pad of this thumb across her cheek. Finally cracks a smile for her sake. “Can we please get something to eat?”

Rory smiles in relief, and jerks her head in the opposite direction. “I know a place.”

They leave the hole-in-the-wall taqueria later, strolling down a well-lit square of Hartford and settling into a nearby bench.

She starts telling Jess about her last days at school, gaze locked on the empty streets. “I’d barely finished my internship when Mitchum took me aside, told me I didn’t have what it takes to be a journalist, and I don’t know,” Rory breathes, pinching the skin at her wrist. “It’s like all the fight seeped out of my bones. There was nothing left.”

Jess watches her carefully, feels blinding rage on her behalf at this fucked up world of high price journalism. What did these media conglomerates know other than selling salacious headlines, what did they care about the truth and their readers? It concerns him that one hiccup could blow the wind out of Rory’s sails, and he means to tell her as much when she turns to him and continues.

“Do you remember that night I tutored you?” she asks suddenly.

Jess quirks an eyebrow. “How could I forget,” he mutters. Another mess of a night. Gave the whole town a new reason to vilify him.

“I mean when we were talking in the car,” Rory explains. “When you said you thought this world—this work I wanted to do—sounded too rough for me.” Her eyes are swimming with something. Clarity. And shame.

He’s already shaking his head, angling his body towards her. “That’s not what I meant, Rory.”

“What if you were right? I mean, how else could I have been knocked down so easily? Maybe I didn’t have that _thing_ to begin with,” she murmurs, staring down at her shoes. It’s both heart wrenching and liberating to finally talk about this with someone. She could never get the words right with Lorelai. Wouldn’t dare broach the subject with her grandparents.

Jess reaches out and cups her jaw, tipping her face up and gazing at her steadily. “Rory,” he starts. “It’s not an intrinsic thing. And it’s not something some old ass socialite can detect, either. Believe me, if first glances and mistaken impressions were all we were measured by, I’d probably be on the streets. Or doing a stint in Attica,” he jokes lamely, pulling a little snort from her.

He runs his hand down the column of her neck and gently wraps his palm around her shoulder. “If this is the kind of thing you want to pursue, then do it. Do whatever it takes. What I said that night…I just meant it would be challenging. You grew up this small town golden child. When you left that bubble, things weren’t always gonna come easy, _that’s_ what I was trying to tell you,” Jess says, pouring all his conviction into his voice.

“You were right,” Rory says. “It hasn’t been easy.”

“But,” Jess continues. “That doesn’t mean you give up after one bad experience. You’re better than that.”

“How can you be so sure?” She wants it, wants that confidence, that self-assuredness Jess moves through the world with.

“Because I know you,” he responds easily. “When I ran to California, my mom left me these rambling messages. ‘Oh, you’re just like Jimmy, you’re going nowhere, another Mariano fuckup, blah, blah, blah.’” At Rory’s horrified expression, Jess shrugs. “She wasn’t in a good place back then. Whacked out on booze and pills. But whenever I started to think she was right, I heard your voice instead. Telling me I could do more.”

Rory pulls his hand from her shoulder to lace their fingers together, squeezing with intent. “You could—you _did_ ,” she breathes.

“And how did you know?”

“Because,” she blurts. “I knew…” Rory trails off. _I knew you too._

Jess smiles. “You saw it from the beginning. I meant it last night, Rory, I couldn’t have done any of this without you. So believe me. Let me repay the favor. You’re gonna be okay, you’ll get back on your feet. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, and don’t let them mold you into what they want you to be either.” It used to drive Jess crazy when they were younger, watching the townsfolk, or her grandparents, or Paris, even her mother sometimes, force Rory’s hand for their own benefit—despite what she really wanted.

Tears collect at the corner of her eyes, and she has to turn away, too enamored with the look on Jess’ face. She breathes out a wet chuckle. “When’d you get so wise?”

He offers a laugh of his own. “A year or two of fucking around, and I finally got my head out of my ass,” Jess jokes.

Rory knocks her shoulder into his and he returns the gesture, their hands still clasped tightly. They sit like that for a while, silent with bodies pressed close together.

 _This is it_ , she thinks. In another life, this is what it would be like. Jess would have stayed, and Rory would’ve trusted him, and maybe they would’ve found their way around the country together. Learning and building a life together. She’d be made of tougher stuff then, maybe. More steady, more willing to believe in her abilities and passions. He inspires that kind of feeling in her, Rory realizes. 

Jess drives her back to her grandparents later, nearly all the lights shut off as Emily is fast asleep. They linger at the gate, shuffling around awkwardly, each unsure of how to say goodbye.

Rory reaches out first, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. “I _am_ sorry, Jess,” she repeats from earlier. “About tonight—Logan, he—”

Jess cuts her off, lips pulled into a half smirk. “I don’t wanna talk about him. I wanted to hang out with you tonight, and I got that in the end. Forget the other stuff,” he says, shrugging. “Take care of yourself. Think about what I said, okay?”

She nods, watches as he shoots her another smile and steps back. Before she loses the nerve, Rory surges forward and pulls him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing.

“Wait,” she murmurs against his chest. “I never got to tell you…I’m really proud of you Jess. The book is wonderful.”

Jess breathes out a halting laugh—a low, nervous sound—and runs a hand up Rory’s back and between her shoulder blades. “How would you even know—”

“You’re crazy if you don’t think I stayed up all night finishing it,” Rory cuts in, a smile in her voice.

“Well, I know better than to argue with your literary judgment,” he hums amusedly, holding her tight for another moment before stepping back. The distance is unbearable, but he’s done all he can tonight—all that’s appropriate anyway. The rest is up to her.

“Bye, Rory,” he murmurs with a soft smile.

Her fingers itch to pull him back. “Bye, Jess.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the ball, 2x06.  
> (*diner fluff is my favorite)

Rory and Christopher enter Luke’s that night, Dean having begged off to rid himself of his tux and Lorelai promising to catch up soon. Emily had called after the ball, maybe to further explain Richard’s outburst, and she paced in front of Doose’s, phone glued to her ear as her mother vented.

Father and daughter settle into one of the corner tables, chatting amiably when two mugs are placed before them.

“Coffee?” Jess is already pouring before they can answer.

“Thanks,” Rory says. She glances at his outfit then and swallows a smile. A slightly ill-fitting plaid shirt and a backwards grey cap. A notepad shoved into the front belt of his pants to complete the look. Jess feels her eyes on him, and he stares back, daring her to say something. The silence extends and she clears her throat, catching her father’s curious gaze.

“Uh, Dad this is Jess, Luke’s nephew. He’s new in town.”

“Nice to meet you,” he offers, smiling genially.

Jess nods, expression neutral. “What can I get you?”

Christopher’s phone rings before he can answer. “Hold that thought.” He pulls out his cell and shoots Rory an apologetic smile. “Gimme a minute, kid, I’ll be right back.” He slips out the front door and whispers into his phone.

“So, that’s your dad.” Jess’ eyes follow the man for a second, trying to find bits of Rory in his face, his gait.

“Yeah.” She’s beaming, and Jess feels the strangest bit of jealousy lick at his spine. He clears his throat, and the noise pulls Rory into focus. “So,” she prompts.

He tucks a pen behind his ear, expression put on. “Yes?”

“Nice threads.”

Jess shrugs casually, lips pulling into a half smirk. “Swiped some from his closet.”

Rory shakes her head, breathing out a small laugh.

Luke emerges from storage, footsteps thudding behind the counter and stopping short at the sight of his nephew. He shoots Jess a dirty glare. “So, you think this is funny, huh?” he calls out.

Jess raises his eyebrows innocently, and Rory marvels at how quickly his expression can morph from one setting to the next despite his rather stoic disposition. “I’m sorry, I thought this was the uniform,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Luke flings his dishrag in the air, gesturing broadly. “Alright, you do whatever you like. Doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”

“Sure thing, Uncle Luke.”

“Luke, _just_ Luke. In fact! Don’t address me at all, and—hey,” he growls, finally taking in the finer details of Jess’ clothes. “Are those mine?”

Jess cracks a smile, delighting in his uncle’s indignation. “Luke, please, can we do this later, I’m with a customer.”

She peeks from behind Jess’ figure then, waving sweetly at Luke and hoping to ease the diner owner’s incoming stress ulcer.

Luke sighs and painfully returns Rory’s smile. “Burger?”

Rory shoots him a grateful grin. “With extra cheese please,” she chirps.

He nods, eyes darting to Jess again, and turns away, muttering something under his breath all the while.

Rory peers back at Jess and shoves his plaid-covered hip. It’s a touch too familiar, a little too friendly, but they’ve established an easy rapport since he gave her back _Howl_ and she called him Dodger. “Be nice,” she chides.

Jess ducks his head in an uncharacteristic laugh. He looks nice when he smiles with his teeth, Rory notes, eyes morphing into pretty half-moons and cheeks pulled tight.

“Gotta keep him on his toes,” he quips, winking at her. He takes in her getup then, giving her a careful onceover since she entered the diner. “So you’re back from the ball, I take it.”

She shrugs, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “Oh, yeah.”

“This something you do often?”

Rory snorts, a decidedly un-ladylike sound. “What, play the Hartford socialite?”

Jess tips his head, eyes dancing. “Well?”

“No, no,” she says emphatically, suddenly feeling the pull of the pins in her hair, the way the dress holds her spine straight. It’s uncomfortable. She wishes she were wearing her tattered Velvet Underground t-shirt. “I did this for my grandparents, and well, my dad ended up visiting, because fathers are supposed to escort the daughters of the Daughters of the American Revolution, and I told Mom she didn’t have to help, but she had some sick fascination in watching me prance around during the fan dance, and—” She clamps her mouth shut, mentally rebuking her endless rambling.

Jess is impressively holding in his laugh, watching Rory with warm eyes.

“No,” she repeats, picking up her mug and taking a sip of coffee to occupy her mouth. And after a beat, confesses, “Debutante balls aren’t really my idea of a fun time.”

“So what do you do instead?” he asks, leaning forward a bit.

Rory’s brain short circuits at his close proximity. “What?” she breathes, face slack.

“For fun,” Jess enunciates. “What do you do for fun?”

“Oh, well,” she stutters, gaze going skyward. Rory thinks of her books, of sitting with Lane in her secret hideout listening to Lou Reed and gossiping about Janey Furtman, of Dean and battlebot marathons. “Not much,” she mutters.

Jess cocks his head, lightly shoving her shoulder with his hand. “Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we?” he asks, a devious smile playing on his lips. It sounds like a promise, and Rory wants to ask _what specifically?_ when Luke drops a plate of fries and a side salad in front of her, comically nudging Jess out of the way.

“Thanks,” Rory says, welcoming the intrusion and reaching for the fries. She pauses, redirects her attention to the salad instead, and smiles up at Luke. “You got bleu cheese dressing?” she asks.

It’s the most excited she’s seen him. Thrilled at the idea of a Gilmore girl agreeing to eat her greens.

“Yeah, coming right up.”

Jess rolls his eyes at her. “You’re too nice,” he grumbles.

“You could learn a thing or two from me, Holden,” Rory replies easily, popping a fry in her mouth while Luke isn’t watching.

“You better eat that _whole_ thing,” Jess warns, eyeing the salad.

“Or what,” Rory says with a laugh.

They continue their back and forth until Lorelai and Christopher enter the diner together, looking every bit the high society couple, and Rory swallows roughly, eyes glued to her coffee mug instead. She knows her dad has a new girlfriend, a steady one judging from his soft gaze while mentioning her. Rory isn’t sure her mom knows, doesn’t want to consider how she might feel about it. She’s resigned to thinking about her parents like passing ships in the night. Their timing is never right.

They settle at the table with Rory then, rattling off an order to Jess as he scribbles in his notepad. He gives Rory one last look, questioning and tender, and she smiles back helplessly, shrugging lightly.

Before they leave later, Jess falls into step with Rory, hair wild as he’s taken off his ball cap and flannel unbuttoned to reveal his Metallica shirt beneath. _That_ brings a silly smile to her face, gross as that alien-looking thing is.

“You’re relentless.”

He offers a fleeting smile, then drops something in her hands, a battered copy of _Short Stories of Guy de Maupassant_.

Rory quirks a brow.

“Trust me,” is all he says.

She wraps her hands around the book, breathing out a muted ‘thank you,’ before waving goodbye and catching up with her parents. She’s already flipping through the pages, running the pad of her thumb over Jess’ messy penmanship as warmth blooms in her chest.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set at the end of A Deep-Fried Korean Thanksgiving~

Jess follows Luke out the diner, hauling the monstrous heap on his back. “You should get more trash cans,” he complains.

“Don’t need ‘em,” Luke counters, setting his hands on his hips like some old-timey proprietor. Jess knows his uncle gets some sick satisfaction from making him do the grunt work.

“You’re making me run all over town to dump _these_ ,” Jess grumbles, holding up the hefty bag.

“Just dump it in one of Taylor’s bins—it gets rid of it _and_ it pisses off Taylor. Two birds, one stinky stone.”

Just then, Lorelai and Rory stroll onto the diner steps. “Hi boys!”

Luke nods, ignoring the overdone greeting and eyeing them warily. “You want something to eat?”

“Please, we’re not eating until next year.”

Rory folds her arms and smiles generously. “Or until tomorrow morning,” she offers.

They both turn to stare at Jess, who’s bunching up the top of the bag in consternation and throwing it over his shoulder dramatically. “Oh, hi Saint Nick!” Lorelai croons.

He jerks his head to Luke and sends her a cold glare. “Tell him he needs more trash cans.”

“Go,” Luke says, shooing him away, before looking out into the distance. “Hey, did I see flames coming from Sookie’s place?”

“Yeah, why?” Lorelai replies easily, slipping into the diner with a confused Luke in tow.

Rory turns to follow Jess instead, sneakily glancing behind her shoulder to make sure there are no busybodies lurking. She rounds on him, fingers tugging on his sleeve and grasping at his shoulders.

Jess’ expression is still put out, face showing exertion from lugging around a big trash bag. He rolls his eyes, gesturing to Luke. “I still say he needs more—”

She cuts off his words by pressing her lips to his, hand snaking across his shoulder blades and ending at the nape of this neck. Rory threads her fingers in his hair, tilting his head for better access, and licking hotly in his mouth. Jess drops the bag to the ground, trash forgotten, as he groans in surprise, arms wrapping around her waist and walking her backwards to the far wall of Luke’s—away from his uncle and Lorelai’s eyes. He presses her up against the wall and hikes her leg around his waist, slightly frustrated with her heavy coat but basking in her sudden openness. They come up for air eventually, Jess panting as he runs his hand from her jaw to sweep across her collarbone. Rory gazes at him blearily, lips a faded red as she smiles up shyly.

“Hi,” she murmurs.

“Hi.”

“So,” she hums, “I might’ve been a little hasty…about this ‘no flaunting’ rule,” Rory admits.

Jess nudges his forehead to hers, a goofy smile playing on his lips. “Yeah?” he asks, dipping his head and sucking a mark behind her ear.

Rory fists his shirt in her hands, biting on her lip. “What red-blooded American teenagers shouldn’t be able to kiss in plain sight,” she reasons, voice breathy.

“That’s what I’m saying,” he responds, bracing a hand on the wall and watching her smugly.

She tries not to be charmed by his triumphant look and smooths out his shirt to distract herself, hands running a path down his chest and around his ribs. Rory is gripped by the sudden urge for more though, and boldly slips a hand into Jess’ back pocket, pushing him forward and effectively caging herself in his form. His eyes widen, a stunned laugh caught in his throat.

“What’s with you today,” he murmurs appreciatively.

“I just missed you,” she says, voice muffled as her head is buried in the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. Rory leans back a bit, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Jess’ mouth and sighing. “Today’s been a blur, and dinner at my grandparents wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

Jess runs the pad of his thumb at her temple. “What happened?”

“College talk. Yale is becoming more of an option, and my mom’s wigging.”

He snorts. “What’s one ivy league over another?” he asks. “Sounds like the opposite of a problem.”

Rory smiles absently, tucking a stray tendril of unkempt hair from Jess’ forehead. She wishes it were that easy. “There’s bad blood,” she confesses. “Some resentment too, I guess. My mom never went to some big wig university like Grandpa. And I think she sees things in black and white; it’s either I fall victim to my grandparents’ world or buck tradition like she did. There’s no middle ground for them.”

Jess cocks his head, cupping Rory’s chin. “And it’s your job to fix all that?” he asks gently, though they both know the answer. She’s always biting off more than she can chew, trying to bridge the divide even when it’s not her responsibility. It’s a part of Rory that Jess both loves and is frustrated by.

She breathes out a tired chuckle and leans her forehead against his shoulder, wincing. “This conversation has taken a dreary turn,” she says.

He runs a comforting hand down her back. “What, you mean you didn’t come out here to unpack your generational trauma?” he jokes.

“Nope,” Rory mumbles against Jess’ neck. “Just wanted to make out with my boyfriend.”

Jess nudges his face against hers, drops his mouth to her ear. “Well, if you insist.” They’re caught up in another series of kisses, hands roaming, before she stiffens. “Rory?”

“Taylor,” she whispers in his ear, and Jess is already gearing up for her impassioned speech about prying eyes, but she simply kisses him soundly on the lips and pats his backside. “I’ll distract him, you go toss that,” she jerks her neck towards the bag, “in his trash can.”

He chuckles lowly, gaze warm. “Look at you, a rebel-rouser in the making.”

Rory winks at him and strides towards the grocer, already catching him up in a conversation about holiday travels and plans for installing new heat lamps by the gazebo. Quiet as he can—and Jess can do covert ops, spent his whole life majoring in it, really—he tiptoes to the alley behind Doose’s and places the bag in Taylor’s dumpster, mussing up the strangely pristine site. As he turns back onto the main street, he catches Dean’s hulking form in the corner of his eye, the bagboy’s gaze already narrowed in hostility.

And maybe it’s the late hour, the good food, or the ghost of Rory’s lips on his that sends a pleasant buzzing throughout his body, but Jess is too blissed out to care. Even manages a small, victorious smile. Because he’s happy, and not even Godzilla in an apron can take that away from him.

“Jess.”

He walks past, nodding. “Hey, man.”

As Dean tries to catch up with him, hurtling an insult or two, Rory appears, skipping from the direction of Doose’s and looping her arm in Jess’.

“God, he was talking my ear off about the winter festival committee—” Rory complains with a laugh, before finally noticing Dean, who’s stopped in his tracks. She sends a polite smile and a quiet ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ his way before leading Jess back to the diner.

When they’re a safe distance away, she nudges his hip with hers. “Well?” she prompts, eyes dancing.

Jess tosses his head back and laughs, a full throated, warm sound. She looks positively thrilled. “Mission accomplished,” he murmurs, leaning down and kissing her cheek.

“We’re a regular Bonnie & Clyde,” she sings-songs, running her hand down his forearm and interlocking their fingers securely. They enter Luke’s like that, pressed close together, the very picture of young love, and it almost brings a smile to Lorelai’s face. She watches them settle into a table by the window, hands lightly clasped across the vinyl, whispering about this or that.

The older Gilmore shakes her head then, shooting Luke a longsuffering look.

He leans forward on the counter, meeting her gaze. “What?”

Lorelai thinks about Rory’s first relationship, how it always seemed Dean was the one pulling her forward, pushing her comforts and offering ultimatums. She knows it unnerved Rory in the end, made her feel like she was putting on a show for the town. As safe as the boy was, there was something slightly off-kilter. Rory had said as much.

But here, with Jess…Rory’s relaxed posture and soft smile offer a different story. Their back and forth had always been whip smart and easy. Maybe it was inevitable they’d make the transition from friends to a couple. Lorelai can already see how Jess and her daughter delight in their shared intellect, how Rory pulls him from his darker moods and boosts his confidence. Luke’s words play in her mind, a gentle reassurance. _‘She’s good for him.’_ And the unspoken _‘He could be good for her, too.’_ It sends something catapulting in her chest, acceptance and fear twisting together uncomfortably.

Lorelai stares down at her coffee mug, mulling over her thoughts. “Maybe you were right,” she mutters.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rory finds Jess in his car. 4x12

Rory inches closer to the hunk of metal resembling a car, blinking rapidly to make sure her eyes don’t deceive her. Sure enough, it’s Jess’, more rundown than she remembers, and parked on the street opposite Luke’s. As she nears the frosted window, she spots him, huddled in the backseat and shivering.

“I don’t believe this,” Rory mutters, brain working in overdrive to register his presence in Stars Hollow.

Lorelai balks behind her, gasping in shock. “Is that—”

Her words are cut off by furious pounding, Rory’s delicate fist slamming against the glass, the force of it shaking the entire car.

Jess wakes with a start, eyes widening at the sight of her. He thinks he might be hallucinating when Rory’s gaze meets his, angrily gesturing for him to open up. She looks gobsmacked and irritated and more beautiful than Jess remembers. Rory mouths his name, a soft wisp of cool air floating from her lips, and he jumps to, surging forward and opening the car door ajar. He searches for the words, but then she leans in, blue eyes flashing, and any coherent thought flies from his head.

“What are you doing here?” she asks harshly, gaze raking over his form and throughout the car interior. Rory doesn’t wait for an answer before firing off a series of questions. “Why are you sleeping in your car, I mean, are you like, living out of your car?” she asks urgently.

“Rory,” Jess murmurs, unsure of what to say.

“Does Luke know you’re here,” she whispers, quickly glancing behind her shoulder and back to Jess, her eyes sparkling with a glint of something…offense or betrayal, maybe. “Does he care?”

His eyes unwittingly move from Rory to the diner, and that’s when he catches sight of Lorelai, watching the scene unfold before her, mouth set in a grim line.

Any openness in Jess’ demeanor withers away—his face and posture effectively shutting down within a split second. Rory watches him pull away and sighs. If she wants any answers tonight, she can’t do this with an audience.

Turning back and smiling bleakly, she gestures for her mother to go on. “Mom,” Roy calls out calmly, “I’ll meet you back a the house.” She’s adopting a particular tone—the new one that appeared after she started college that drips casualness and steady confidence.

Lorelai harrumphs, reluctantly nodding but not before shooting a warning glance in Jess’ direction. She mumbles “Damien,” under her breath, and he cracks a humorless smile at that. No need to guess where Ms. Gilmore stands on the issue; she’s always hated him.

Once they’re left alone, Jess’ eyes dart from Rory’s face to the graceful line of her neck to the way her hands clutch a coffee cup to her chest. It hurts, seeing her again. He thought with time it would get easier, but it’s like a sucker punch to the gut.

As he takes stock, she stares back at him expectantly. “Jess.”

“I’m here to fix my car,” he blurts out. “It’s—I don’t know what’s wrong, but it won’t start,” he explains.

Rory kicks her boot to the back tire, snorting lightly. “Shocker,” she mutters. “This thing is on its last leg.”

Jess nods, mouth pulling down. “Luke had it the whole time. Liz called to tell me, so…” he trails off.

“You came back,” Rory surmises, voice flat.

“ _Just_ for the car,” he offers, tone slightly defensive. Luke’s words play in his head; _“You’ve done all the damage there you’re gonna.”_

Her features flash in hurt before melting into indifference. “Just for your car,” Rory repeats numbly. Of course, who was she kidding. It had been nearly a year of radio silence, why would that change now. She stares down at her feet, suddenly feeling the windchill in her limbs. When she peers back at Jess, his expression is oddly anticipatory. For what, she can’t say.

“You can’t be here,” she murmurs.

Jess tugs the beanie from his head and runs a shaky hand through his rough tresses. “Look, I’ll go to Gypsy’s first thing in the morning, I won’t—”

Rory shakes her head. “No, I don’t mean—you can’t be _here,_ spending the night in your car. It’s freezing, idiot,” she says, tone exasperated. His lack of self-preservation still grates.

His expression softens some. “I’ll be okay.”

But she’s resolute tonight. “No. There’s a cold front coming in, and you don’t even have a blanket, and that’s a ridiculous choice of outerwear given the weather,” Rory scolds.

Jess scoots forward, hands bunched together though he’d love nothing more than to reach out for her. He plants his feet on the cold asphalt. “Rory,” he tries again, but she’s on a roll now, leaning back slightly but still looking him square in the face.

“You’ll die of hypothermia. Which would rob me the opportunity of beating you senseless later,” she breathes in annoyance. “Taylor will come out here tomorrow and discover a Jess-sized icicle, and then he’ll hold a town meeting on how best to pry your frozen corpse from the backseat, and that’ll be another thing I have to deal with. _No_ ,” she repeats, eyes determined. “There is a perfectly good bed for you upstairs.”

Rory turns suddenly, marching towards Luke’s with a swift stride, and it takes a moment for Jess’ brain to understand her intentions. He jogs after her, stepping in front with raised hands to stop Rory from barging into the diner.

“Hey, hey,” he begins placatingly. “It’s _fine_ , Rory, come on.”

She ignores his protests, banging on the door with wild abandon as Jess slaps a palm to his forehead. The last thing he wants is to deal with his uncle again.

“Luke!” Rory calls out, voice pitched higher in irritation. “Open up, I know you’re in there! I can hear you watching the fishing channel from the upstairs window, you’re not fooling anyone!”

Jess reaches for some way to stop her, half expecting Mrs. Slutsky to emerge from the next building over and hurl a hard object at them. But Rory simply pins him with a fierce gaze and grabs the sleeve of his leather jacket to keep him from running off. And that hurts, that she’s sure he’d do such a thing, that he already briefly considered it the moment he laid eyes on her tonight.

Jess can hear Luke’s thudding footsteps from inside the diner, and then he’s suddenly there, throwing open the door and staring at Rory with wide eyes.

“Rory, what—”

“Luke,” she grounds out, letting go of Jess and circling his uncle’s wrist instead. “Jess can’t stay out here, he’ll freeze to death.” Her voice goes softer now. “I know you’re upset, I am too,” she admits. “And I know it’s not my place to ask, but _please._ If you don’t let him in, I’m bringing him home with me, and as much as I love being the bigger person, I really can’t deal with my ex-boyfriend crashing on our couch,” Rory finishes, relying on bland humor to lighten the mood.

The words would pull an amused snort from Jess if it weren’t for her casual use of _ex—You left without a word, asshole,_ an inner voice chides. _What were you expecting?—_ and her desperate tone. She cares so much, she always has. After all this time, she cares a helluva lot more than anyone else, and it drives Jess mad. He still can’t figure out why she tries.

Luke looks from Rory to Jess and back to Rory. He exhales roughly through his nose and reaches up to pat her on the shoulder, resignation in the gesture.

“Alright,” he mumbles, shooting his nephew a biting glare. “I’m staying over at Nicole’s. Lock up down here,” Luke says gruffly. It’s all Jess can do but nod stiffly. Luke grabs for his keys and leads Rory out onto the street.

When they’re a safe distance away, he regards her carefully. “You need a ride home?” he offers in his usual awkward yet loving manner.

Rory’s posture wilts, some of her earlier frustration melting away. “I’m okay,” she reassures. “I think a walk home would do me some good. Clear my head,” she says, shrugging.

Luke nods silently, holding his tongue. What could he even say at this point? The cat is already out of the bag concerning Jess’ sudden appearance, and Rory seems to be handling herself just fine.

“Thanks, Luke,” she calls out, and he raises his hand in goodbye, climbing into his truck and pulling away.

Jess watches him leave, watches Rory send one last look towards his dark figure in the diner and march off into the night. He runs after her before he loses the nerve, struggling to fall in step with her quick pace.

“Rory, wait.”

“Get out of my way.” Her voice is quiet, almost bored, and something cracks in his chest.

Jess rushes in front, blocking her path with his body and willing his brain to catch up with the moment. He stretches his arms out, with palms upturned in apology, and reaches for a decent explanation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to have to do all this.”

Rory’s eyes flit up to him, a searing gaze. “You know, you could’ve fixed this yourself. If you weren’t so proud, if the two of you weren’t so pigheaded.” Neither is sure who she’s talking about now.

Jess kicks the foot of his shoe at the sidewalk, spine prickling as the acerbic words automatically leave his mouth. “I don’t need Luke to do me any favors.”

“That’s right. You don’t need anyone, I forgot. You’re a walking advertisement for a man is an island,” Rory mocks, more emotion bleeding into her voice than she’d like.

Jess can see the naked hurt in her face, and he wonders if he wears a matching expression. A year of nothing, and it still hits him square in the chest—the strength of his feelings for her.

Rory shakes her head, not expecting a response, and moves past him. “Do whatever you want. Fix your car. Leave. That’s what you always do.”

He reaches out and wraps a hand around her elbow, tugging her to face him. “I never wanted to leave you!” Jess blurts, voice broken. “Everything went to shit, and I didn’t know how to tell you. _I’m sorry,_ Rory. Please.” He doesn’t know what he’s asking for anymore.

Rory stares back, noting how the apology does little to mend the ache in her chest. Her throat tightens, her voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t even have the decency to break up with me. Couldn’t even let me get over you like a normal person. Instead, I had to wonder where you were, if you were okay…” she trails off.

A harsh wind blows in their direction, and Rory shivers from the blistering cold. Jess wants to lead her back to the diner and explain everything, but he remains silent, feet rooted in their spot in the empty town square.

“Go,” Rory murmurs after a while, gesturing back to the diner. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

And Jess knows she’s offering him an out. No matter how much hurt he’s inflicted, she’ll do him this last kindness.

“Let me walk you back home,” he offers.

Rory cracks a smile at that. “Unless you want to be bludgeoned to death by Lorelai, better not,” she jokes with a wry snort. “Take care of yourself, Jess,” she says softly, giving him one final unreadable expression and heading off in the direction of her house.

She forces herself not to look back. Places one foot in front of the other until she’s far enough away to feel the force of this encounter. _I get to leave first,_ she thinks brokenly, tears collecting at the corner of her eyes.

He watches her retreating form with the bitter taste of irony in his mouth.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to that one commenter, i saw your suggestion, and this is all i could come up with >.<  
> *inspired by that one time lorelai is all huffy and laments that jess never changed the porch lights or replaced the water bottle like dean*  
> **short and sweet bc i am not at all comfortable writing jess and lorelai interactions LOL ✌**

Lorelai rises with a groan from her spot on the couch to answer the door. She’s not expecting anyone this evening, and takes her time, folding her copy of People magazine face down on the coffee table and brushing the mallomar debris from her sweater. When she swings the door open, she’s met with an uncomfortable looking Jess, carrying a heavy knapsack and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Oh,” Lorelai breathes, working to keep a friendly smile on her face. She promised Rory she’d cut her new boyfriend all kinds of slack, and being mildly polite was the first step.

Jess raises his eyebrows in acknowledgment and murmurs, “Hey.”

“Rory’s not here,” Lorelai offers after an awkward moment of mutely staring at each other. “She, uh, had to stay late for the Franklin. Paris, no doubt, finagled her into checking on something for the paper. You know that girl, she will not be denied,” she rushes out, chuckling lightly.

He nods, face remaining neutral. “I know, she called to let me know. It’s just,” he gestures to the bag in his hands, “she asked me before to drop off some books, so…” Jess shrugs. “I can leave them with you,” he mutters, eyes skittering away.

Lorelai flounders, having assumed he’d just leave after his usual Marcel Marceau bit, but she moves from the doorway at his words.

“Sure, of course. Here, I’ll take this,” she says, grabbing for the bag and nearly dropping it on her feet as she buckles under the weight. “Geez,” Lorelai mutters. “You sure there aren’t bricks in here?”

Jess clasps his hands behind his back, lips pulling up in a half smirk. “Sorry,” he drawls. “I was going through some boxes Liz sent, I wanted Rory to get her fill.” He keeps a safe distance from the interior of the house, scuffing the toe of his shoe at the entryway.

“Well, they’ll certainly have good company. She’s still got an unread pile beneath her bed. I really oughtta get her another bookshelf,” Lorelai says with a grunt, heaving the bag onto a nearby chair. She peers back and catches Jess shrugging with a fond smile on his face.

“She’s got a good system,” he says quietly.

When their eyes meet, his expression smooths out again, and Lorelai internally winces. He’s _really_ not comfortable around her, she realizes for the umpteenth time. But, oddly, the thought doesn’t come with its usual tinge of sick satisfaction this time. She’s just about to make small talk, maybe offer the kid a soda or something when Jess takes a halting step back, hands shoved in his jean pockets. He jerks his head back. “I better go,” he mumbles, ready to bid the older Gilmore goodbye.

Just then, the porch light flickers ominously, flashing rapidly once, twice, before going dead.

“Rats,” Lorelai gasps, gazing at the sconces framing the railway forlornly.

Jess’ eyes dart from her to the lights and back. “You got spare light bulbs?” he asks.

“I do, but usually Luke takes care of it,” she says, a little embarrassed. “Or Morey. Or Mr. Cassini from down the street. I’d do it myself, but I’m pretty sure there’s a family of spiders living under there, and try as I might, I’m not up for that particular confrontation.”

Jess snorts, trying to imagine a scenario in which Lorelai might back away from a showdown. His mind come up blank. He swallows a sigh and watches her carefully. “I’ll do it.”

Lorelai raises her eyebrows, hemming and hawing to cover her shock. The last time Jess offered to do any kind of menial house work was the famed Rain Gutter Cleaning of ’02, and that had ended in biting words.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“It’s fine,” he offers, tone almost bored. “I don’t want it to be pitch dark when Rory comes home later. Just get me the light bulbs.” He’s already reaching up and undoing the glass sconce overlay, grimacing at the cobwebs attached. “Might wanna grab a stray dishrag, too,” Jess adds.

Lorelai rushes back into the house, digging up the box of new bulbs from the hallway closet and snatching her least favorite dish towel from the kitchen. She hands them off to Jess with a thankful murmur.

He makes quick work of it, shoving his sleeves up and unscrewing the old bulbs, wiping the area clean, and screwing in the new ones. Jess covers the bare lights with their glass overlay, straightening the decorative sconces and freeing them of dust and cobwebs. Fluorescent brightness floods the wrap around porch, warmly lighting the way to and from the Gilmore house.

Lorelai gestures for the rubbish but Jess shakes his head.

“I’ll toss it in your trash bins out here. I don’t think you wanna see the spider colony, after all.”

She grimaces and hands him a wet cloth and paper towel instead, eyeing the old bulbs and stray dishrag with poorly concealed disgust. “Good thinking, kid.”

Jess’ face snaps up at the casual endearment. Not even Luke calls him kid. Definitely not Liz. He’d heard Lorelai use it on Rory countless times. _Kid, sweets, hun_. It always sent something twisting in Jess’ chest. As fraught as his and Lorelai’s encounters had been, he knew she loved her daughter above all else, and he was thankful for it. Jess never wanted Rory to experience the sting of disregard he often felt from Liz. Shaking his head and cracking the faintest smile, Jess nods.

“Well, g’night,” he mumbles, jogging down the front steps.

“Wait,” Lorelai calls out, face contorted as she works something out in her head. “Rory and I were planning on a movie marathon Sunday evening. You should join us, maybe help me dissuade her from ordering Indian,” she jokes lamely.

The urge to decline is right on his tongue. A movie marathon with his girlfriend and her mother who despises him? Jess would rather work a shift at the diner waiting on Kirk. But he knows this is a peace offering of sorts, knows this kinda thing would make Rory happy, so he slaps a stiff smile on his face and agrees. But not before warning Lorelai about his and Rory’s differing taste.

“She won’t let me pick the movies anymore, after I tried to get her to watch _Almost Famous_ a third time.”

Lorelai manages a bright chuckle, imagining her daughter wrangling this rebel-rouser boy with her doe eyes and stern tone. “We’ll work something out,” she says genially.

Jess nods. “I’ll bring Thai food,” he says in place of a goodbye, raising his hand slightly and walking away.

Lorelai smiles, and something like cautious acceptance settles in her chest. “Good man,” she calls out.

Later that evening, out of curiosity, she thumbs through the newly proffered bag of books, and the first one catches her eye. A battered anthology of Pablo Neruda’s works, dog-eared and marked up like no one’s business. Lorelai’s no bookworm, but even _she’s_ cultured enough to know that’s the hot and heavy stuff. Her mouth twists up, equal parts annoyed and amused, at the thought of Jess and Rory connecting over smutty poetry. Literary flirting. It’s _almost_ endearing, certainly nerdy, and dangerous all the same. New porch lights be damned, she’ll have to keep an eye on him after all.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different take on 4x21 Last Week Fights, This Week Tights~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this reworking is pretty self-indulgent i gotta admit ... but the original scene is too painful i can't help it

Rory jostles her key in the door when she hears shuffling behind her. The hairs rise on the back of her neck. Campus is usually safe, but with the mass exodus of students yesterday and the night she’s had, Rory is on edge. Turning back swiftly, she readies herself but is met with Jess of all people. He stands stiffly at the doorway of the corridor, hands jammed in the pockets of his leather jacket. Rory’s heartbeat thuds in her ears. “What are you doing here?” she asks, dumbfounded.

Jess takes careful steps towards her, expression unsure. He looks different from the last time they met—less spooked, less guarded. But there’s still tension in the line of his shoulders. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” Her voice is clipped.

He stops a stone’s throw away from Rory, eyes suddenly beseeching. “Come with me,” Jess murmurs.

“What?”

“Come with me,” Jess repeats.

Rory throws her hand up in frustration, gesturing broadly. “What are you talking about, come with you _where_?”

“I don’t know. _Away._ Away from this place, from Stars Hollow, we can start new.” His voice gains confidence with each word, and it worries her. She knows Jess has a fondness for running, for throwing himself into the winds of change, but it’s not like him to take her along for the ride.

Rory gapes, bug eyed. “Are you insane?”

He shakes his head, gently cupping her elbow. “I don’t know, probably! Do it, come with me, don’t think about it.”

She scoffs, wrestling from his grasp and finally unlocking the door. “I can’t do that,” Rory mutters, shuffling into her dorm and throwing her things onto the nearest surface.

Jess follows her with halting steps, arms still outstretched. “You don’t think you can, but you can do anything you want!” he insists, whirling forward to face her.

“It’s _not_ what I want!”

“It _is_ , I know you!”

The conviction in his statement scares her. His eyes, always so serious, are bright with something wild this evening, and Rory swallows past a flash of fear and longing. It’s almost as if Jess could somehow recognize the insecurity—the mad urge to flee—she felt this year. But that’s crazy, _this_ is crazy. She looks down at her trembling hands, clenching them into fists.

“Are you seriously asking me to run away with you? Leave my school, my family, my hometown?” Rory asks incredulously. “If you love me,” she grounds out, referencing their last disastrous encounter, “if you know me so well, you think I would ever do that?”

Jess swallows thickly, desperation plain on his face. “I want to be with you,” he says helplessly, like this is the only plausible scenario he can fathom.

A crease forms between Rory’s eyebrows. “Not like this,” she breathes. “It’s been over a year of _nothing._ No apologies, no explanations, and then you suddenly appear out of nowhere again and want me to jump? Why is it always like this, what are you running from?”

Jess paces in his spot, clasping his jittery hands. “I’m not running from anything!” he insists. “I’m ready for this now, but I need you. And you can count on me, I know you couldn’t before but you can now, you _can,_ ” he stresses, gaze imploring.

Rory has never heard his voice so vulnerable and raw. It makes her chest ache. “Jess…”

He advances slowly, gauging her for permission. After a moment, he places a tremulous hand against the column of her neck, fingers splayed to feel the thrum of her wild heartbeat. “You know we’re supposed to be together, Rory. I knew it the first time I saw you two years ago, and you know it too. I messed up before, but it’s different now. _Please_ , I love you, I can—”

Rory presses her lips to Jess’ in a chaste though lingering kiss. Something cracks at finally being able to touch him after so long, but it’s a bittersweet kind of pleasure. And if nothing else, it halts his spiraling for a moment. Rory can’t stand how broken Jess’ voice is, how frantic his pleas are. She feels a shaky breath rattle in his chest as he wraps an arm around her waist. Threading her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck, Rory rests her forehead to his and they breathe in tandem. She steels herself and forces her voice to remain even, resolute.

“I love you,” Rory utters.

It’s easy to say; she’d known it for a long time, after all. She was too shocked the night of the Firelight Festival, too thrown by Jess’ sudden confession. But here, in the quiet privacy of her empty dorm and wrapped up in his arms, it’s as easy as breathing.

Jess rears back just the slightest, eyes widening before his mouth pulls into a pretty, unconscious grin. He breathes out a small, incredulous laugh—a faint, choked noise—before dipping his head and catching Rory in a bruising kiss. So passionate and exultant it makes her head spin. When they part, their bodies are still connected, hands roving and eyes drinking each other in.

Rory runs the pad of her thumb across his cheek, her own expression sobering. “I love you,” she repeats, wanting Jess to know it, understand it, and not hold what she says next against her. “Which is why I can’t. I can’t go with you.”

He stills, heart dropping to his stomach. “But—”

“Not like this, Jess,” Rory repeats. “We can’t just drop everything and pretend the past never happened, build a life someplace else. I have roots here, I’ll always be tied to Stars Hollow,” Rory explains gently. “And so will you.”

Jess is already shaking his head. “I can be with you anywhere.”

“I don’t mean me,” Roy says quietly.

Realization dawns on him and he works his jaw, gaze conflicted.

“You have family there too. Luke loves you like his own.” Rory is careful not to mention Liz, unsure of where Jess stands on that particular relationship.

At the mention of Luke, Jess’ blood runs cold. After all he put his uncle through… “I don’t see why,” he mutters, looking down at their joined hands.

She sweeps her thumb across the inside of his wrist—a soft, chiding action. “You gave him some trouble,” Rory allows. “But you gave him purpose too.”

Jess is quiet, his posture sagging in slight defeat. “What does that mean for us?”

“It means we have to do better. A relationship has to be more than the desperate need to get away. I think we could both work on that…” she offers quietly.

He waits a beat before peering up at her helplessly. “I can’t go back there, Rory. As much as it’s your home, I _can’t,_ I’m sor—”

“I’m not asking you to grow old in Stars Hollow,” Rory quips, before her expression sobers. “Or to stay by my side here at Yale. You were doing your own thing long before you met me. If you need to leave and figure some things out, then go.” _Just come back,_ she thinks.

He folds in on himself, brushing the side of her face with his. “I can’t do this without you.”

“You don’t think you can, but you can do anything you want,” she throws his own words back, but not unkindly. “And I’m still here, if you ever wanna talk,” Rory adds hesitantly. Jess never really took her up on the offer before. Always relied on his bravado and cool demeanor like armor. She hopes it’s different this time.

Jess runs a hand from her shoulder down her arm, leaning back to look her square in the face. “I love you,” he says quietly, and it feels like farewell.

Rory tries to keep her tears at bay. She wants so badly to see Jess thrive, knows he has that in him. But there’s only so much nudging she can do; she’s said all she can tonight. “I love you,” she responds, throat tight.

They stand like that for a moment, wrapped up in the feeling of shared adoration and faith and resignation. After a while, Jess comes to, taking in the near empty dorm, the piles of boxes, and bags of takeout perched on the kitchenette counter. His quirks a brow at the chaos, and takes a step back, hating the distance. But tonight hasn’t gone at all like he planned, and he’s resolved to leave with a little dignity.

“I didn’t mean to spring this on you,” he says quietly, voice apologetic. “I’ll let you get back to…eating your weight in takeout. Geez, is there any food left in New Haven, Rory?” Jess jokes lamely.

She allows the change in atmosphere, shoving him lightly with an amused chuckle. “Don’t judge,” Rory scolds before shrugging sheepishly. “It wasn’t on my dime anyway, so…” she trails off.

Jess cocks his head questioningly, and she winces.

“It’s sort of a long story. My grandmother set me up with this guy and he ended up leaving halfway through the night to drink with his friends, so I had to get a cab back to campus. But it turns out he left his tab open at the bar, and they make fiesta burgers and chili fries, so,” she rushes out in a breath.

“So you indulged,” Jess says with a smile.

Rory shrugs again, her smile conspiratorial. “Hey, I’d feel bad but he basically ditched me to get shitfaced. This teaches him a valuable lesson,” she says primly.

Jess shakes his head, laughing lowly. It feels good to talk to Rory normally again—well, as normal as their current situation allows. He takes in the sight of her, burns it into memory, and means to say goodbye when she gently circles his wrist.

“Stay,” Rory suggests shyly, eyes suddenly bright.

“What?”

“There’s too much food for just me, and it’s already so late. Stay the night, drive back in the morning.” She doesn’t specify where, and he doesn’t offer anymore information. It’s already enough that they can exchange I love you’s and manage some light conversation.

“I don’t wanna impose,” Jess says, but even to his own ears it sounds unconvincing. He’d do anything for more time with her.

She smiles softly. “You aren’t. Come on, I’ll grab some plates and we can watch something on my laptop.” Rory is already digging through a stray box for kitchenware and prompting Jess to unload their provisions on the coffee table.

Jess quickly obliges, shucking off his leather jacket and pushing the sleeves of his ratty Tool shirt up to his elbows.

Later, they’re settled on the couch, polishing off dinner and knee deep in some bootleg Scorsese retrospective Rory downloaded an eternity ago. It’s too easy to fall back into familiar habits, gorging themselves on unhealthy food and bantering over a movie. Something in Jess’ chest warms—it’s been so long since he could just hang out with her. On those dreary, lonely days in California, he never imagined he’d get to do this again. He’s pulled from his thoughts when Rory hurls a french fry at his face.

“What are you thinking about so hard over there,” she muses.

Jess smartly dodges the offending thing and tries to hide a grimace. He considers playing it cool, but he’s tired of pretending nothing touches him anymore. “I don’t want to leave you again,” he admits quietly, the shame and guilt clear in his voice.

Rory watches him carefully. After a moment, she reaches over and laces their fingers together. “You’re not,” she responds softly. “You came here for me, didn’t you? Even if I can’t go with you, I’m still around. We’ll…see each other again, won’t we?” she asks, gaze planted on their hands. Rory doesn’t like the vulnerability in her voice, but she needs to know. This isn’t it for them, is it?

Jess swallows roughly. “I don’t think I could say goodbye to you for good even if I wanted to,” he says with a light snort. “We always seem to find our way back to each other,” he adds, playing with her fingers. 

“Careful,” Rory chides with mock seriousness. “Sounds like you’re describing fate there, mister.” She tries to keep her voice light, playful even, despite the way her heartbeat thunders behind her ears.

“Maybe it is,” Jess challenges, squeezing her hands and waiting for Rory to meet his gaze.

She does, cocking her head as if appraising him. “You went soft in California,” she accuses, a small, wistful smile playing on her lips.

“I thought about you all the time,” Jess breathes suddenly, as if that alone should explain his openness and newfound penchant for sweet declarations. There’s no hint of teasing in his voice, just naked honesty. A year’s worth of regret and unsaid words pour from his gaze.

The air around them buzzes, and the smile slips from Rory’s face—a look of intense longing taking its place. She squeezes his hands back and blinks back tears. “Me too,” she offers quietly.

\-------

The next morning, she sends Jess off with a tight hug. She wants to pull him into a kiss, but in the light of day, it feels too bold. Instead, they exchange numbers once Rory walks him to his car, and she pins him with a serious look. “You actually have to say something on the other end of the line, you know. You can’t just answer and breathe quietly.”

The tips of Jess’ ears burn. “Okay,” he relents. After a moment of consideration, he dips his head and presses a brief kiss to her temple. “Love you,” she hears him murmur.

A few tears cling to the corner of her eyes, but she musters a soft smile anyway. “I love you,” Rory replies easily. And this time it feels less like _Goodbye_ and more like _See you soon_.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *continuation from drabble #12, rory & jess at weston's, the firelight festival, etc.*

Rory quickly shuts the door to Weston’s behind her, not wanting to bring in any of the cold. She bounds up to the counter and smiles at Ryan, one of Fran’s great-nephews who took over the bakery after her passing.

“Hey, can I get a large coffee and a cherry danish, please?”

He offers her the proffered to-go cup but frowns. “We just sold our last danish, Rory, sorry,” he says, not so discreetly jerking his head to the lucky customer.

When Rory follows his gaze, she’s met with Jess, huddled in a corner table, nursing said danish, and staring at her wide-eyed. She swallows, paying for her beverage and stalking towards him with a put out expression.

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

Jess blinks. “I thought you’d be at Luke’s.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “I came here because I figured _you’d_ be at Luke’s.”

“Why would I be at Luke’s?” he asks dumbly, still watching her like he’s afraid she’s an apparition.

“Because he’s your uncle! And you slept there last night!”

“But he’s—” Jess clamps his mouth shut, floundering. “Your…Luke,” he finishes lamely.

Rory stares at her feet, pinching the bridge of her nose. “God, what do we have to do, come up with a schedule or something,” she mutters. She moves to the side table and fills her cup up with the dark roast.

She hears Jess mumble from his spot. “Is it so bad to see me,” he wonders morosely.

Her head jerks in his direction, eyes hard. “Under normal circumstances? No. After you left without a word, and it’s been a year of no phone calls or explanations or apologies?” Rory shrugs. “Yeah.” She roughly grabs a few Splenda packets from the basket, dumping them into her cup and stirring the contents with a red stick.

“I’ll leave,” Jess offers, face drawn.

Rory steps in his way, halting his movements. “Don’t do that,” she chides in a gentler voice.

“What?”

“Run off at the sight of me. Makes me feel like crap.” She grabs for a to-go cup lid and curses when it doesn’t screw on easily. Rory sighs, catching the cautious expression on Jess’ face. “I’m in a crabby mood,” she admits.

His lips pull into a smirk. “I hadn’t noticed.” After a beat, he dips his head, trying to get a better look at her face. “What’s up,” he murmurs.

Rory leans against the counter, looking down at her hands. “The window’s busted at the house; we may as well be living in an icebox. And I haven’t had my coffee yet, and I _really_ need to get a baked good in me,” she grumbles.

Jess holds out his danish like some peace offering. “Have it.”

“No, it’s yours,” Rory insists.

“I just got it on a whim,” he mumbles. “Plus, I don’t—”

“You don’t like cherry,” she finishes for him.

Jess smiles wanly. “Yeah.” He figures, if he’s lucky, Rory will take the proffered treat and won’t deck him, and they can both leave with a little dignity, but as always, she surprises him in the best way. Kicks her bag under the table and takes a seat across from Jess, motioning for the danish. He watches as she reaches over for his cutlery and slices the pastry in two, placing one half onto a napkin and sliding it back to him. She murmurs a quiet ‘Thank you’ and starts tearing at the dough, popping each bite into her mouth and chasing it down with coffee.

They sit in silence for a while, and Jess realizes Rory won’t give him an inch, not while some patrons are surreptitiously eyeing the duo with poorly concealed curiosity. Jess’ skin prickles, not even 24 hours in this mental ward of a town, and he can’t stand the stares. Rory pulls him from his reverie, clearing her throat and gesturing outside.

“How’s your car?” she asks.

“Needs a new carburetor.”

Rory nods absently, though she’s unsure of what that entails exactly.

“Gypsy said she’d have it fixed by the end of the day. Told me to bring a lot of money,” he says with a humorless snort.

Rory smiles despite herself, imagining the diminutive woman sassing Jess.

It’s as if he can read her mind because he rolls his eyes and pouts. “She’s yanking my chain, I’m sure. I should keep an eye on her.”

“Don’t hound Gypsy,” she scolds.

“Why? It’s fun,” Jess deadpans.

“She’s your ticket out of here,” Rory reminds him. “Let her do her work and then you can leave.” Her voice goes quieter at the end, a slight edge to her tone.

Jess stares down at the table, his throat closing up. “Yeah.”

It’s silent again, and he reaches for something—anything—to keep the conversation going. He realizes Rory’s already finished her danish and moves to offer her his half when she raises a hand.

“Don’t. You gotta eat,” she grouses, eyes raking over his form. It’s an analytical gaze, nothing hot or tender in her eyes, and Jess blanches, feeling exposed.

“I’m not hungry,” he starts.

“You’ve gotten skinnier,” Rory quietly accuses, eyebrows furrowed.

Jess swallows roughly, a dull pain shooting behind his eyes as he shakes his head. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he murmurs, that familiar prick of confusion licking at his spine. _Why does she care,_ a little voice begs.

Rory runs a finger across the lid of her coffee cup, eyes fixed on a spot behind his shoulder. “It’s all I can do,” she mutters unwittingly.

The air around them buzzes, swelling with something so potent and tragic, it pulls the breath from Jess’ lungs. He takes a bite of his pastry for something to do, uncomfortably swallowing without tasting and messily wiping the sugar from his lips afterward. When he lifts his head, Rory is watching, expression unreadable. Jess holds her gaze, steeling himself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Her response is immediate. “For what?”

“For…” His leg starts to shake. “For yesterday, for dumping that on you, and for how we left things before,” he says vaguely.

“That all?”

Jess works his jaw. “What, you want a list?”

Rory glares. “It couldn’t hurt.”

“Hey,” he grits out, eyes hard. “I know I fucked up. If I could, I’d go back and fix it, believe me. But you didn’t always make it easy, either.” Jess’ ears feel hot, he didn’t expect this kind of encounter this morning, wishes he could’ve readied himself for it somehow.

The harsh look on Rory’s face melts some, and he watches her throat bob in a rough swallow. Her defensive posture seems to wilt, and she turns her head to look out the window. “I know,” she whispers after a while. “I’m sorry, too.”

He nods, shocked at her easy regret. It’s been so long, Jess thinks forlornly. An eternity of unsaid words and missed opportunities stretch between them. He wracks his brain for something to say as Rory finishes the rest of her coffee, leaning forward for her bag and rising. His chest aches, he doesn’t want to see her retreating form again.

“I should go,” she says quietly, mustering a small smile and watching Jess with a more open expression.

He twists in his seat, looking up at her. “Big plans?” he asks.

Rory shrugs. “I was just gonna head to the bookstore or something. I have this event with my grandparents later, I figured I could use some downtime before.”

Before he loses the nerve, Jess blurts, “Want some company?” It’s stupid, he reasons. Thickheaded and presumptuous and brazen, but he has to say _something._

Rory’s features screw up in surprise, and she looks down at this boy with his too sharp shoulders and his wild hair and his intense want. It twists something in her chest, but Rory recognizes an olive branch when she sees one. This couldn’t have been easy for Jess either, she reminds herself. Nodding haltingly, Rory hears herself murmur, “Okay.” She waits for him to gather his things, and they leave for Andrew’s together.

\-------

Jess actually walks her to Babette’s later, because he’s a masochist. But the surprised look he catches on the stout woman’s face, along with the daggers shooting from Lorelai’s eyes almost make it worth it. He and Rory linger by the porch steps, and he catches a figure looming by the front window. Rory follows his gaze and nods to the man, grinning warmly.

“Hey, Morey,” she calls out.

“Hey, Rory,” he responds simply, cracking a small smile.

This must be a bit they do.

When she turns back, her face is still open, and Jess savors it. “Thanks,” she breathes. “The bookstore was nice.”

He nods. “Yeah, it was.”

“I guess I should get inside.”

Jess smiles with his teeth and everything. “You’re gonna get an earful,” he warns.

Rory blows a puff of air from the side of her mouth, expression put on. “You love to complicate my life,” she chirps.

He laughs quietly, resisting the urge to pull her closer. After a beat, he tilts his head. “You got that obscure works charity after, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back for the bonfire, though,” Rory says with a hopeful smile. She’ll need something to cheer her up after rubbing elbows with Hartford’s finest all night.

Jess watches her, a peculiar look on his face. “Me too.” She cocks her head in confusion, and he rushes to explain. “I mean I’ll be there too. At the Firelight Festival,” he mumbles embarrassedly.

“You?” Rory asks. “Attending a town event? What universe is this,” she jokes.

“One where I can stomach a little town cheer.”

She looks at him with skepticism, and Jess rolls his eyes.

“My mom’s around. I know she’ll drag Luke there, and he’ll drag me too.” He shrugs. “At least I’ll get to watch the mayor light some stuff on fire.”

Rory’s mouth pulls into an amused smile. “Okay, pyro.”

Jess kicks his foot at the front lawn grass. “I’ll see you later then,” he says, a promise in his voice.

\-------

She catches him loitering by the bonfire, hands jammed in his jacket pockets, a contemplative look on his face as he watches the flames. Rory sidles up to him after separating from her mom, knocking his shoulder gently.

“Hey.”

Jess turns to her in surprise, face lighting up. “Hey.”

Rory swallows, unable to take the tender look on his face, and surveys the town square instead. “Did I miss anything good?” she asks.

He shrugs, smiling absently. “Harry and Taylor got in a fist fight.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Every year.”

“How was your night?” Jess asks after a while.

“My grandmother was a pill, my mom got chewed out for not bringing a man,” she responds easily.

“And what were you doing?”

Rory watches him from the corner of her eye. “Shoveling chicken kiev down my throat and counting down the minutes ‘til we could leave,” she deadpans, causing Jess to chuckle. She rolls her eyes good-naturedly, glancing around again and catching Jess’ beat up car in Gypsy’s garage.

Swallowing, Rory stares at her shoes. “Your car all fixed up?”

Jess’ response is tight, a slight edge to his voice. “Yeah."

She looks up and notices the tension in his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

He angles his body towards hers, eyes conflicted. “I scraped together enough to cover the repairs, but Luke left me some money in the glove compartment anyway. I need to figure out a way to give it back without him kicking up a fuss.”

Rory’s gaze slides from Jess to where his uncle stands, talking animatedly with her mother. He looks happy. “It’s okay, you know,” she murmurs, looking towards the bonfire once again.

Jess is silent, prompting her to explain.

“To let others help you once in a while.”

“I don’t want to be in anyone’s debt,” Jess mutters, tone stubborn.

“Don’t think of it that way,” Rory suggests.

“How else am I supposed to think of it,” he grumbles, and she can hear the frustration in his voice. Jess carries so much on his shoulders, she knows. Ever since they were younger, she watched him heave the weight onto his body like armor, daring anyone to cross him.

Rory sighs inwardly, chewing on her lip as she considers her next words. “It’s more like letting the people who love you take care of you,” she says gently. “They want to make sure you’re okay. Want to see you do well.” Her eyes are remain forward, she knows she’d lose her resolve if she looked in Jess’ direction.

 _The people who love you, huh_ , Jess repeats in his head, and it takes all of his self-control to tear his gaze from Rory and stare at the bonfire too.

The sides of their pinkies brush, and the thrill that runs up their spines is muted, desire and regret melding in the touch. They breathe in tandem, letting the warmth from the night surround them, and for a brief moment, Rory and Jess are all that exist.

If she were braver, she’d sling her finger around his, tell him there’s a parallel universe in which he stayed. And he’d respond in kind, wishing it could be true.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Different take on 2x15 Lost and Found  
> (self-indulgent, as always)

“I’m gonna freak out,” Rory moans with dread.

“Relax, we’ll find it,” Lorelai reassures.

“I’m gonna have to tell Dean I lost it.”

“Let’s not even go there.”

“He made it for me, he’s gonna be mad.” Anxiety bleeds into her voice.

“He’ll get over it.”

Rory’s gut clenches uncomfortably, remembering the stricken, almost angry look on his face at the book fair. _No, he won’t,_ she thinks forlornly.

Lorelai is already pulling on a jacket and heading for the door. “Here, you check your room, and I’ll check the car, okay? And worse comes to worse, if we can’t find it, we’ll follow Dean to work, hide behind the cantaloupes, jump him, blind him, and he’ll never find out!” she calls out.

Rory runs into her bedroom, smiling wryly. “As long as we have a plan!”

She starts flinging clothes and stray books from her bed, shucking up the sheets and crouching down to check underneath. Her mind is a blank; she can’t remember the last time she saw the bracelet on her wrist.

A noise pulls her attention up, though, and when she lifts her head, Jess is standing sheepishly at the doorway, wringing his work gloves in his hands. She blushes. He must’ve heard most, if not all, of her meltdown. _Well, that’s embarrassing,_ she thinks. They stare at each other wordlessly, a strange pall hanging in the air. After a moment, Rory gestures around her messy bedroom.

“I’m sorry, I really need to find something. And I have to find it before Dean figures out it’s really gone. Before he starts reading too much into it, and I have to spend an entire afternoon convincing him I didn’t lose it on purpose—”

Jess moves further into her bedroom, his steps careful. “I have it,” he says clearly. Quietly, in that intense way of his. His eyes are serious, but there’s a faint blush on his cheeks, a nervous twist of his features.

Rory has to keep her jaw from dropping. She heaves herself up, expression a storm of confusion. “What,” she blurts.

“Don’t—don’t freak out,” Jess prefaces, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the bracelet, all worn leather and heavy metal medallion. He holds his palm outstretched between them, and Rory carefully plucks it up, the pad of her thumb running along the strap. Strange. The apprehension in her chest hardly abates at the sight of the returned bracelet.

She peers up at Jess, finally finding the words. “Why do you have this?” she asks.

Rory watches him swallow thickly. “I—I didn’t know,” he says quickly. “I mean, I knew it was yours, but I didn’t know he made it for you. I just thought…” Jess trails off.

She pins him with a look, demanding a better explanation.

“It was the day of the bid-a-basket festival,” he says gruffly. “When we were on the bridge. It fell off, and I don’t know. I saw it, and I just kept it.” Jess clasps his hands behind his back, the line of his body taut and distressed. Belatedly, Rory wants to laugh. He looks like he’d love nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. But something in his words shocks her.

“Bid-a-basket,” she murmurs, her eyebrows drawing tight. “That was weeks ago. It’s been weeks? I didn’t even realize it was gone,” Rory mumbles, clenching the bracelet in her palm. Guilt and a frightening flash of recognition crash across her features, and her gaze moves from the keepsake and back to Jess helplessly. He doesn’t have anything to offer to explain that, though. Her lack of attentiveness, her disregard. She feels bile creep up her throat. “Why’d you take it?”

“Because it was yours, because it was a piece of you,” Jess answers honestly. _Too honest,_ Rory thinks in panic, heat coloring her cheeks.

“Why would you want that?” she mumbles despite herself, unsure if she wants another honest answer or not.

Jess steps impossibly closer, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes are imploring, his voice quiet in desperation. “Why do you think, Rory?” he breathes.

She swallows roughly, but before she can respond, she hears the click of the front door, the telltale squeak of Lorelai’s sneakered footsteps nearing her bedroom. Rory goes pale; there’s no time to get Jess out of here without her mother seeing, and it’d be a headache to explain his presence, especially their close position. In a fit of panic, she swiftly pulls him forward and shoves him into her closet, shooting him an apologetic though urgent look before shutting the door.

Rory starts organizing the things on her bed, trying to look natural. Just in time for Lorelai to enter, her hands piled high with junk—car mats, old coffee cups, a handful of takeout menus and containers. “How goes the search?” she asks breathlessly, oblivious to the extra guest in the bedroom.

It’s a miracle that Rory can keep her voice even, smiling as convincingly as she can as she holds up the bracelet. “Found it.”

“Oh, honey, that’s great! See? Nothing to worry about.” Lorelai looks more relieved than her daughter feels. She catches the tail end of Rory’s wonky smile and crinkles her forehead in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Rory blinks rapidly, shaking her head. “Nothing,” she lies. “Just scared me, is all. I thought it was gone,” she says stiffly.

Lorelai chalks up the strange mood to her daughter’s earlier consternation and shoots her a reassuring smile. “Well, what matters is that you have it back now. Dean will understand. He thinks you’ve got a skin ailment, anyway,” she jokes.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Sorry you had to tear apart the car though.”

“Ah, it’s no biggie. It was probably time for a little sprucing up anyway. And by sprucing up, I do mean throwing out literally a decade’s worth of transient junk.” She peers at her watch and groans. “Actually, I’ve gotta get to the inn soon,” Lorelai laments, dropping the pile of things in the kitchen and suddenly catching sight of the laid out Chinese food, but no surly teenager eating it. “Hey, where’s Jess?”

Rory’s heartbeat picks up in her chest, and she inches closer to the doorway, positioning herself more firmly between her mother and her closet. Her brain is working in overdrive. “I don’t know. I must’ve run him out with my meltdown,” she jokes lamely.

“Well, if you see him, tell him to eat up. He’s been working all afternoon. And tell him to heat up those eggrolls. Okay, I’m off sweets!”

She watches her mother grab her keys and purse by the entryway. “Thanks!” she calls out, making sure Lorelai is far, far away from the house before she rushes to the closet and gestures for Jess to come out. Under different circumstances, this would be hilarious. He looks slightly rumpled among her clothes, her winter formal dress draped around his shoulder like a cape.

Wordlessly, Rory moves out of the way as he steps out, straightening his back and watching her with an unreadable expression. “I’m sorry,” Jess says quietly, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “Rory, I didn’t mean to—”

She takes a big step back, grabbing her bag and pager from her bedside table and brushing past him, shuttering her expression. “Don’t worry about it,” Rory says as breezily as she can manage. “I should go. I left all my stuff from the book fair at Lane’s. If I’m not careful, Mrs. Kim is gonna dump ‘em in the trash. Wouldn’t want that, right? See ya,” she rushes out in a breath, leaving Jess to stand motionless in her bedroom.

\-------

Rory supposes she shouldn’t be surprised Jess found his way out to the bridge. It was probably the only place he could stomach in Stars Hollow, after all. But she gapes dumbly anyway, sitting straighter in her position by the ledge and watching as his footsteps falter.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Jess says in lieu of a greeting. When Rory continues to stare, he works his jaw. “I can leave,” he offers.

She clamors to her feet, raising a hand. “Wait. Why would you have to leave?” she asks.

“Because you’re avoiding me,” Jess responds bluntly. It had been nearly two weeks of a concerted effort to not cross paths. Which meant Rory was drinking instant coffee from home, avoiding Andrew’s bookstore, and opting for pie at Weston’s these days.

“I wasn’t—” Rory blurts, but catches the tired look he shoots her. “Okay, maybe I was,” she admits in a small voice. “But I won’t anymore, I’m sorry.”

Jess shrugs, a harsh motion of his tight shoulders. “I get it. After what happened…” he trails off, his gaze unwittingly moving to Rory’s delicate hand. He gawks when he finds it unadorned. “Why aren’t you wearing it?” he blurts, taking a step closer.

Rory wraps a hand around her wrist, twisting the skin there. “I—” she swallows. “I told Dean I lost it,” she answers quietly.

“You _what?_ ” Jess gapes. After her full blown freakout before? “Why?” he whispers. His heart is thundering in his chest.

She runs a thumb across the inside of her wrist again, willing her own pulse to quiet some. “Because.” She hangs her head. “I didn’t want him to think he had a claim on me. Or something like that,” Rory says, frustration creeping into her voice. “When I finally realized it was gone, I was worried, I felt guilty. But his reaction…it scared me. He gets so angry these days, and I can’t do anything to reassure him. Not without feeling like I have to give something up. It shouldn’t be like that, right?” Rory raises her head, an almost helpless look on her face. She keeps pinching the skin at her wrist, turning it a blotchy, angry red.

Jess leans forward and gently pries her fingers away. “Stop that,” he chides, grasping her fingers lightly. He doesn’t release his hold on her though, and Rory doesn’t ask him to. After a while, he says what he’s been denying all this time. Dreading, really. “He cares about you,” Jess mumbles cryptically. But it’s enough for Rory to understand. _He cares about you so much. Maybe he’s the better guy for it._

Rory’s expression hardens. “I know that,” she defends. “I know he loves me, I know he’s good and kind and _safe_. And I know if I were a better girlfriend, maybe I’d feel everything just as strongly as he does. But…” she trails off painfully. Rory threads their fingers together, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “What are we gonna do?” she murmurs, the end of her voice petering off into a wet chuckle.

Jess feels roughspun and exposed. This is as close as they’ve ever gotten to addressing the fraught elephant in the room. He reaches for the right words, his mouth feeling like dry cotton. “I like you. I have for a while now. So you have to figure out if that’s enough for you to—you could stay with him,” Jess offers. “I’ll back off and we’ll just be…” He shakes his head. _Friends_ feels like a foolish description. Even when he first met her, even on his first few days in town, he was already into her. Couldn’t manage any regular semblance of friendship. If this didn’t pan out, they’d be nothing. And that hurts too much to think about. “I won’t complicate things,” Jess says instead.

Rory tugs at their joined hands. “But you _do_ ,” she insists. “You come in here and you mark up my books, and bust snowmen, and bid on my basket. And now I’m knee deep in it, whatever it is I feel for you.” Her face is flushed; she feels ridiculous and exhilarated. She is seventeen and falling out of love—if it was love to begin with at all. And this new boy is looking at her so clearly _._ A cold sweat breaks out at her temples. Rory leans closer and presses a chaste, feather soft kiss at Jess’ cheek.

“I need to talk to Dean. And then I’ll come find you afterwards, okay?” she asks unsurely.

Jess squeezes her hand one last time before taking a step back. He can still feel the ghost of her lips on his skin, her breath wafting across his face. “Okay,” he finds himself saying. “I’ll be waiting.”

When he watches Rory leave him a second time, it doesn’t feel so hopeless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


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